


Passing of Time

by adventurer17



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Spiritual, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 39,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adventurer17/pseuds/adventurer17
Summary: When Sophie Devon wakes up in Elizabeth Bennet's body she finds herself playing the part of the heroine in her favorite book. But what challenges lay ahead when the game begins turning into a reality and her heart starts being pulled by two different men in two very different times? Lost in Austen inspired, but different plot.
Relationships: Mr. Darcy/ OC
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	1. Prelude to Change

Everyone has their thing. That specific detail of their life that defines more than just their personality and their likes and dislikes. It is something that resonates within them, giving a sort of meaning that only they alone can understand. It is something that has always been around, but with the rise of pop culture it has become bountiful as well as instantaneous. What I speak of are stories.

Stories have been something that have been in existence since the dawn of time; influencing and inspiring those that it touches. For some it is charging the Black Gates of Mordor with Members of the Fellowship; or travelling through space and time in a curious blue box; or perhaps sipping tea with stiff upper lips in the company of the Dowager Countess Grantham.

For me, it is sharing the walks of Elizabeth Bennet and experiencing all the changeable emotions that carry her through the book until the very end when she and Mr. Darcy come together in blissful union. All expectations of happiness and love fulfilled.

The only problem with that is it has altered my perception of reality, thus ruining my love life. When men like Mr. Darcy, Knightley, and Tilney are lingering in my mind it’s hard to not compare them to men of my general acquaintance. Especially those who are brave enough to ask me out. Not to say I'm a particular catch, in fact I’m quite the reverse as I am the proud owner of a reputation that precedes me. While I may not be as extreme as Jane Hayes from Austenland nor guilty of having hallucinations of the back of my shower being a doorway leading to the Bennet’s household, I am known to be a most . . . enthusiastic fan of the Austen era. To summate the meaning of my dedication to the long dead authoress and her equally inanimate heroes the blokes that do take me to the pub around the corner are not quick to repeat the offer in any way, shape, or form. 

I don't consider it much of a loss. I have my hopes for men more romantic then the sole aim to get me to the nearest ale house and then, well...

Though, I suppose I'm not being fair. There was one who was different from the others. But it was finished with my mistake.

Mum worries though; she's always been one for grandchildren and as I’m her only child all her hopes rest on my reproductive organs. Every now and then, when I visit, she'll bring out my old cot for a 'dusting' as she tells me of the new couples that are filling the flats around hers. I usually keep my thoughts to myself at these points in time. At least she's not like Mrs. Bennet. She doesn't arrange blind dates for me or push me to get close to my GP or some of the other things that would be the norm of a modern day Mrs. B. My mum let's me do things in my own time, though she does like to give me little reminders of the ticking clock.

I can't help remind myself of that same ticking clock, but I'm stubborn and have high expectations. What woman doesn't after a generous dollop of Jane Austen. In all fairness, it's that lady’s fault.

I reckon I should properly introduce myself seeing as I'm rambling to strangers about the goings on of my personal life. You should at least have a name. It's Sophie Devon, named after my great-aunt on my dad's side. I've never met her, but I'm told that I have similar features to her so I guess inheriting her name is fitting. I'm a 23, almost 24, year old Londoner with a life not unlike thousands of others; not even my obsession of Austen is unique, though when not with like minded people it can sometimes feel like I am the only one who appreciates the lady’s writings in this modern age. And since it is rare that I am with like minded people I feel myself clinging to my dreams and imaginings stronger and stronger.

When I am forced to detach myself from my telly, filled of Mr. Darcy glowering at all he sees, I can be found working my days in an office — HR to be exact — and what more can I say on that subject other than - Agh! I complain but it's not all bad. My mate, Jules, works just a few desks down within talking distance and is my polar opposite. She has no qualms with men in general, pubs round the corner, or the ... 

But you know what they say about opposites and attraction.

The day was Friday and when I had woken that morning nothing suggested itself to me of a mystical nature. Everything was as it had been everyday before and, to my mind, it would continue in that fashion.

It was December and the annul office Christmas party was that night. It was a thing of mild excitement. I avoided it, but some around the office have assured me that it has improved since the last time I attended.

"Sophe, you going to the office party tonight?" Jules asked across a few drooping heads.

My computer screen showed me that I shouldn't, that I should prepare myself for a long night and wake up tomorrow with the workload considerably lighter and my weekend freer.

"Are you going?" I looked up. She shrugged and spun lazily in her chair. Our co-workers were in varying states of attention. Slack hands holding up nodding heads and drooping eyes only staying open by the sprightly voice of Jules. Friday's were never fast around here.

"I was thinking of it. Dan will be there." She mentioned the name with something of playfulness in her voice.

"Dan is always at those things. It's not surprising," I said, bringing my eyes back to the lit screen. Jules, however, had caught the scent and was intent on pursuing it.

"He said he'd look out for you. Maybe save you a dance."

I gave her a look which she only laughed at. "Fine. Don't dance with Dan. Break his heart some more."

"Keep your voice down, would you," I whispered, darting my eyes around to make sure that no one was paying too much attention to our conversation. I really wished Jules understood the concept of 'there's a time and a place.' Unfortunately for me, she was yet to make that discovery.

"Please, they're all half dead anyway," she motioned widely with an arm.

"Yes, but it's the other half that you have to watch out for," came the quiet voice of Jonny. He sat in the corner of the wide office space and was one of the few who was still diligently working. He paused his typing fingers to look over at us with a smirk. Jules was highly amused by this and let out a crowing laugh as she spun in a full circle, sitting slouched in her chair. I too, found myself smiling.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So, is it a yes or a no?"The glass doors of the building opened for us and we were hit with a cold blast of air. Winter was well on its way and people all around were bundled snugly. I had my own scarf wrapped tightly around my neck while my hat was pulled low over my ears. I groaned in answer to her question.

"Oh, come on, Sophe. If it's because I teased you about Dan, I'm sorry. But don't let it stop you coming and having a good time."

I stopped and had to give her an arch look. "An office party? A good time?"

"Hey, for you that would be living it up." She hooked her arm through mine and forced me to keep walking.

"Why the sudden urge to go to this Party? You've never been this keen before."

Jules was capable of many things; running every morning before work, applying make-up flawlessly in under five minutes, fooling co-workers into covering for her while she slipped off to treat herself for a longer lunch break. The one thing she was not able to do was lie to me and she knew it.

"Look, I'm worried for you."

I sighed but she went on more strongly. "Ever since you and Dan split you've become more of a recluse."

"I have not," I interrupted. Now it was her turn to give me a look, though it smoothed quickly into one of sympathy.

"I understand. You were never easy to please with all your 'Austen Standards,' and then Dan happens and you began acting like a regular human being.”

I snorted.

"But it’s been six months. That's half a year," She implored.

"I am aware of the amount of time that six months elapses," I mumbled.

"So don't you think it's time to start testing the waters again?"

I didn't answer her straight away and after a huffy sigh, she didn't push for a response. We got onto the tube and remained silent, each contemplating our own matters. She had probably dropped the argument thinking it hopeless. I, on the other hand, was repeating her words through my mind. Everything she said was true. Dan had been great and I had relinquished (somewhat) my grip-hold on Pride and Prejudice and the implacable gentleman that was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

But then I had screwed it up and let my own obsession cloud my judgement. Trying to change someone, especially when that person doesn't need changing, is always a mistake. A horrible mistake.

Jules and I got off the tube and walked the few yards it was to the flat we shared. The jingle of my keys alerted Jax to our presence and, as per usual, we walked in to see him siting right in front of the door, swishing his fluffy white tail.

"Hi Jax," I greeted. The dainty cat ran over and arched his back, happy to accept the petting. Jules walked past and dumped her purse on the chair nearest the front door; her clacking pumps leading her to the small kitchen. 

She and Jax had never seen eye to eye. I had found him sheltering under the flap of a damp cardboard box in the pouring rain looking very forlorn. He had clearly been underfed and had no tags so I had no apprehensions in tucking him under the safety of my raincoat and bringing him back home.

Two years later he's my shadow and sleeps gratefully on the edge of my pillow.

"And how have you been today?" I cooed in a voice I knew annoyed my flatmate. He nuzzled his head against my hand and let out a loud purr.

"Yes. Let's get you some dinner." 

I unwrapped my scarf and doffed my hat, adding it to the pile on the chair; my handbag acting as the cherry on top before I followed Jules to the kitchen. Jax trailed behind, rumbling like a little motor.

"Ugh. Does he have to walk all over the worktop?" she asked, distastefully eyeing the white fluff that had jumped up and was pacing beside the sink.

"Come on, Jax. Down." I clapped my hands and motioned for him to jump to the floor. He did as he was told and began twining in an out of my legs.

"You should really teach him not to do that," Jules said, scooting out of the kitchen. "You'll trip over him." 

A second later the telly was on and I heard the tune to EastEnders fill the flat.

"I won't trip over you, will I?" I smiled. He only pawed at my leg, entreating me to hurry with his food. I grabbed a can from the cupboard, popped the lid, and served the cat food in Jax's personal bowl.

"I'm going to take a shower," I called out to Jules. She mindlessly waved her hand in acknowledgement.

After a weeks work of the same routine - point A to point B and back to point A - it was nice to just sit a moment with my eyes closed, lying on my bed.

The weekends to me always presented possibilities. My time spent during the week always seemed so formal, so laid out with a lack of possibilities of alterations. My job was a senseless one. It was automatic with a ready made solution to any problem that may arise. There was no testing my abilities nor a need for my brain to think past the boundaries of the four walls of the office.  
I wanted something different - only I didn't know what it was yet. But it was out there, just like my Mr. Darcy. Patience is all that is required.

With one thought leading to another in a hazy circle of remembering all that had happened that week and what I needed to do to prepare for the next, I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling. Jax came up a moment later, joining me as he fit himself in the nook of my shoulder and neck. Idly, I stroked his fur.

‘Perhaps I should go to the party,’ the thought snuck its way into my considerations. It wouldn't hurt and if Jules was entering the realms of being 'worried' then it would be a step closer to putting her anxieties to rest. And if Dan does come and ask for a dance (though, I'd wager it was only Jules saying that) then I'll deal with it in the mature way that I know I'm capable of. After all, I work in bloody HR. I have ready material in dealing with other humans.

With my mind made up, I discarded my clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water soothed my chilled skin and once I had lathered my body with soap I stood under the spout letting the streams of water run down my shoulders and back. It was numbingly pleasant to just stand there and feel the hot steam build in the room creating a faux sauna that I hoped would seep to the rest of the flat.

When I had finally finished I could hear Jules rummaging around both our cupboards, no doubt searching for something to wear. "You can wear my blue top if you want," I called as I squirmed into my robe and switched on the hairdryer, blasting the warm air into my face. The sooner I warmed up, the better.

"The one with the sweetheart neck?"

"Yeah."

I ruffled my medium length hair, aiming the warm air at the nape of my neck, sending a jolt of gooseflesh down my arms.

"What do you think?" Jules appeared at the door holding up a pair of slim black trousers and the blue sweetheart neck-lined blouse.

"Nice."

"Oh," She slumped her arms, frowning.

"More than nice," I amended, shouting over the droll of the machine in my hand. "The blue will really bring out your eyes."

Said eyes lit up as she examined her outfit. I examined her with furrowed brows.

"You're really putting an effort into tonight," I commented nonchalantly. My hair was becoming relatively dry so I turned the hairdryer off and put it away.

"Well, you know, it's good to make an appearance to show..." she looked up for a second but immediately brought her gaze back down to the clothes as I watched, amused, as she struggled for the word that could possibly explain why she was so eager for an office party.

"...togetherness," she came up with at last.

I turned away, trying my best to hide the grin that was widening fast. "Togetherness," I repeated. From the corner of my eye I saw Jules shift uncomfortably. She was on the verge. Just a second longer.

"Oh, shut up. It's Henry, alright," she blurted.

Sweet victory.

"Henry Ellis from I.T.?"

"Yeah," she came in and sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

"He's been helping me with my computer, as you know, and I don't know. I hadn't really looked at him before - he's not re-"

"Really your type," I finished for her.

"But he's been very sweet," she continued, "and I was hoping that tonight - "

"Tonight you might have the chance to see what he shaves with tomorrow?" I interrupted again.

"No," she said immediately. Then she cringed a little. "Well, maybe a bit. But I don't want it to be just one night. I -" she hesitated.

"Yes?" I stopped my flossing and stared at Jules's reflection in the mirror. She looked up, shrugging her shoulders.

"I want to know him."

I didn't answer at first. I wasn't at a loss of words, but I knew Jules and I knew her temperament. If I gave her a sweet sappy line she'd huff to cover up her moment of vulnerability. Strange ways does the mind work. So I waited for her to follow up.

"That's one of the reasons I wanted you to come tonight."

I tossed the floss into the rubbish bin, slid my tongue smoothly over my clean teeth, and turned to face my uncomfortable friend on the toilet.

"Not to worry, dear one," I playfully patted her head, "I'm coming with you." I then pranced out, leaving her on the throne and went to search for something decent to wear.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

My memory of the last office party was a pathetic one. Half the people were drunk and the other half were on their way there. The dancing had been non-existent unless you counted bodies loosely pressed together moving in a lazy circle, looking more like two forms just trying to keep each other propped up. The food had been passable but the music was the playlist of a fifteen year old hormonal teenager.

That was three years ago. Presently, I had to admit that improvements had been made. There was a tolerable amount of alcohol but not enough to get the entire gathering inebriated; actual couples were dancing in rhythm to the music, which was, thankfully, pleasant to the ears. The only thing that remained the same was the food. But still everyone had something in their mouths; eating mainly because it was there rather than anything else.

Jules, never a timid one, and bolstered by my accompanying her, had succeeded in getting Henry to ask her to dance. Though he seemed very willing. She winked at me with a flirtatious smile spreading winningly across her face as they passed by me. I rolled my eyes and turned away. Best not to encourage any bad behaviour on her part.

Night stood guard at the windows; dark, yet brilliantly illuminated by the added lights of the season, providing its glow even to us who were on the seventh floor. Pedestrians, cars, double-deckers, and all the rest of the multitudes that made up London’s lifeblood looked incredibly small from this height. 

As of yet, I'd seen no hint of Dan. I nearly convinced myself that I wasn't looking for him, but by the time the doors leading to the hall opened for the tenth time and my head spun around to see who it was coming in, I knew that, despite my best efforts, I was anticipating him.

My plastic cup was in need of refilling so I slowly took my time to the punch table. There was only one other person there handling the ladle but they were quick with filling up their cup and walking away. I stepped forward and reached for the handle when my hand collided with someone else's.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see - " I looked up to be met with a grinning Dan. He was the same as ever; great hair, charming smile, big blue eyes and all it did was remind me of how stupid I had been.

"Hi Dan," I attempted calm, therefore it was unwise of me to reach for the ladle again. You would think that I'd be used to seeing him as we work in the same building, but our offices are on different floors so our paths rarely crossed. With neither of us seeking each other out as we used to, we could go a good month before we caught sight of each other.

"Hey Sophe," he gently pulled the ladle from my clumsy grip and poured out the punch into my waiting cup. He then did the same for himself.

"How are you?" he asked, not looking at me.

"I'm good. You?"

"Oh, you know. I'm always fine." He deposited the ladle and took a sip of the warm liquid.

"I see Jules is still making her conquests." He motioned with his cup towards the pair now with their arms completely wrapped around each other. I couldn't help but laugh, feeling much lighter as I did so.

"Yes, well, she claims her intentions are entirely honourable. I guess we'll just have to take her word for it."

"Ooh, always a dangerous thing to do," he said. Setting down his cup, he extended his open hand to me. I looked at it blankly.

"Care to?" he asked. I raised my eyes to his - thinking. He watched the wheels turning just beyond the barrier of flesh and bone, waiting with a slow smile touching just the side of his lips. Steeling myself, I hastily placed my cup beside his and accepted his hand.

He led us to the side of the dancing, no doubt remembering my shyness in the area of 'movin' and groovin'. The song currently playing came to an end and was succeeded by a much slower one. I gulped inconspicuously as I felt his hand come round my waist while his other held my right hand in a firm hold. We swayed slightly, moving in an easy circle. I kept my attention on the dancers, too nervous to look up into Dan's face. I knew he had his eyes on me, I could feel it and it just brought back old emotions and feelings that stung with a prevalence that brought a guilty flavour to my mouth.

The hand on my waist tugged me just a tad closer and I put my hands softly on his chest; finally looking up at him.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I'm just...not ready yet." All my HR training left me to deal with my personal life. Suppose fair's fair when I never liked the job anyway.

He dropped his hold on me and nodded once, an accepting expression appeared on his face that wasn't quite a grin, but he tried nevertheless. Step by step I retreated, continuing to apologize.

"I'll see you around," I finished weakly. He let out a good-humoured bark and shook his head.

"You won't. But it was nice to see you tonight, Soph."

I smiled. "You too."

I slipped behind some dancers and went in search of Jules. I found her and Henry sitting closely together at a table in the corner. They were oblivious to the rest of the room and were completely unaware of my presence standing not a foot away.

"Ahem," I dramatically cleared my throat.

"Sophe," Jules tore her attention away from Henry, an apparently difficult task to accomplish.

"I think I'm going to go home," I told her. That gained a larger portion of her attention."

"What? Why?"

"Headache," I lied. "I'll see you later." I saw that she was of two minds; she clearly wanted to get the truth from me, but neither did she want to let Henry slip away.

"Alright, see you later then," she decided, though her eyes told me that she'd be asking later. I nodded, bid the pair goodnight, and then began the trek home.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

Jax was cuddled up snugly in my arms, purring contentedly. I couldn't say I shared his ease of mind. Though I did have a remedy for it. 

Pride & Prejudice was loading within the antique chambers of our dated television; a mug of hot cocoa was held comfortably in both my hands, and my favorite red blanket was draped over my knees. The expansive sofa was as comfy as ever.

"Ahh," I sighed, already relaxing as the first notes of the 1995 theme of the mini-series played out of the telly. Time past and I was on the third episode, wishing that I could enter that world and escape from all things modern; jobs; relationships; food (well, some food), when my bladder made itself known. Jax was none to pleased at having to depart from his warm spot, but he didn't have much say in the matter.

I slid down the cramped hall in my socks and consequently nearly lost my balance. With my duty done, I washed up and was just walking back into the sitting room when I unexpectedly tripped over something and came tumbling to the floor. My head painfully grazed the side of the wall and I saw stars momentarily. When my vision cleared I looked to see what it was that had tripped me.

"Jax!" I exclaimed. An ironic laugh escaped my lips as I thought back to Jules's earlier comment just this day.

"Our flatmate may have some hidden powers Jax. Unless it's only that you can understand us and thought it would be a good idea to prove her right."

I scooped him up, bringing ourselves back to the sofa. My head spun suddenly, though, and I had to shut my eyes as I dropped down on the cushions. Jax squirmed out of my arms and went somewhere behind me. I lowered my head into my hands and grumbled out Jax's name in a very accusatory tone. My only response was a loud purr.

"Well this won't do." 

I opened my eyes and cautiously made my way to the kitchen in search of some paracetamol. Finding my target, I turned the cold tap on and filled a glass to the brim. Popping the tablet into my mouth, I had the water chase it down.

Meanwhile, I noticed the suspect lounging luxuriously on my red blanket, grooming himself with gusto, utterly unaware of my glaring eyes. I turned the telly off, yanked the blanket from under him and stumbled to my room, catching the shocked growl. I smirked.

My bed welcomed me while my pillow enveloped my spinning head in soft comfort. The edge of my mattress dipped slightly, announcing the disgruntled presence of Jax. Though a bit miffed, he still curled himself up by my head.

"Night, night Jax," I murmured.

Sleep claimed me swiftly, yet my dreams were turbulent with shifting images of Jules, Dan, Henry, Pride & Prejudice, and a shadowy version of Mr. Darcy made up entirely of animate sentences — everything that had been swirling in my subconscious for the past twenty-four hours. The strangest part came when I appeared to be in a dark, circular tunnel moving fast. I could see nothing distinguishable to prove this, although there was a whip-like wind rushing into and past my face. The speed almost became overwhelming and I felt myself starting to waken.

But suddenly there was a light coming from the other end of the tunnel. I watched as it seemed that this light and myself would collide, though I was surprisingly calm about it. The light grew closer and from its glow I saw a figure flying towards me. It was a young woman, probably near to my own age, with rich brown hair and shining eyes. I didn't notice much else as she and I were about to crash. We both saw the other and looks of astonishment passed our features before all went black and my sleep continued undisturbed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

The sun streamed into my room, sprawling across my bed and shining strongly onto my closed eyelids. I lifted my arm to cover my face and rolled on my side reaching for Jax.

"Jax?" 

I moved my hand around with my eyes still shut. When I couldn't feel him, I opened my eyes and looked around.

I was struck immediately by the foreign room I was currently lying in. The furniture were all antiques, though to my untrained eyes, the pieces were in wonderful condition. There was a wash stand in the corner and an ewer sitting beside it. A small writing desk was positioned near a display of windows and the bed that I lay stunned in was a four poster with sheets and covers that were definitely not mine.

I blinked. Then blinked again. I rubbed my eyes and another wave of shock hit me. Instead of the loose jumper and baggy trousers I wore to bed, I was presently dressed in a nightgown with flared cuffs.

"What?!" I breathed.

There was no sign of my red blanket nor Jax. But one thing at a time. Gingerly, I uncovered my legs and swung them out of the bed. Crumpled slippers lay waiting to be worn so I complied and stood shakily on my feet. My head felt better in regards to the fall last night, but with my new surroundings an all new sort of dizziness was coming over me.

'Maybe I'm still dreaming,' I thought. I pinched myself. 

"Ow!" 

Not dreaming then.

I rubbed the sore skin on my arm as I warily walked over to the writing desk. There were a couple of quills, a spare nib and an ink stand, but no papers. Pulling open the drawers I found a trove of letters. Before I scanned any of them my attention was caught by the view provided outside the window.

The city was gone. Buildings, lights, noise - vanished and replaced with the quiet calm of the country.

"What the -?" My voice scratched but I ignored it. Before allowing myself to freak out fully I picked up a letter, unsent by the look of its creaseless body,on the very top. It was addressed to a ‘Dear aunt’ but it was the signature at the bottom that numbed my fingers and had me seriously questioning my sanity.

Your loving niece

~Elizabeth Bennet

"Elizabeth Bennet?" I whispered. The letter fell from my hand with a quiet shuffle as I spun around to observe the room anew. Quaint, simple, elegant, things generally acquainted with the heroine. Atop the wash stand there was a mirror and I tripped over to it.

I thought I might scream. Not only was the city gone - I was gone. This face that stared at me in the reflection was not my own. The brown hair, the big brown eyes belonged to somebody else. The curving lips and pert nose were the expressions of another person entirely.

"What?!"

Hands that were not mine obeyed my thoughts and brought the limbs up to clasp the face of the stranger's, pulling it in every direction.

"What the hell is happening?" I said a tad louder. The hands grasped the throat and the big brown eyes widened. It wasn't even my voice!

I stumbled back until the back of my knees met the curve of the bed and I sat down, or, should I say the body sat down.

I was scared. I was scared of where I was. I was scared to leave the room. I didn't know what may be out there, so I deliberated. I thought of last night and a torrent of memories flooded back of all the strange dreams I had had. 

That tunnel with that girl. 

It was her! 

That was Elizabeth Bennet?!

"That means," I said aloud, marveling at the strange tone that emitted from me, "I'm in Elizabeth Bennet's body!"

Once spoken my mind reeled and I had no choice but to fall back and pass out.


	2. Meeting the Family

"Lizzy," there was a knock at the door, rousing me from the faint I had fallen into. With a groggy head - that wasn't even mine - I struggled to collect myself into a sitting position and grab hold of one of the posts of the bed. The room spun violently around me, veering dangerously off into becoming perpendicular with the ground beneath. Gasping passed full lips that were unfamiliar, I raised a shaky hand to feel their roundness with the pads of fingers that were longer and more slender than mine.

The white door, that obscured whoever it was that had drummed their fingers on its surface, opened a fraction and an eye peered through the gap. Recognizing that I, or Lizzy, was awake, the eye was followed by a most beautiful woman. Figure and face were both equally pleasing to look at and I knew instantly that I was in the presence of Jane Bennet. Her features were remarkable in a sense of timelessness, drawing in the observer to study the living canvas and discover all the hidden secrets of the painting.

"I see you are awake." Her voice was fitting to her physique; soft, melodious, and calming. A very soothing balm to my unsteady state of mind.

"Mamma has been asking for you. I told her that you were to be left this morning as you had retired very late last night." She crossed the room with the natural grace of one fully at ease with her surroundings and for a moment I envied her. My mind could only process that I had fallen into Pride & Prejudice; it could not breach the question of how such a thing occurred, nor how was it that I might return.

Jane was busying herself with pouring the water out of the ewer and into the basin that rested on the wash stand that was meant to be my means of washing. I stared in fascination, becoming intrigued by the process, so much so, that I silently slid off the bed and hovered near the eldest Bennet girl. A slight sway rooted me momentarily, blurring my vision and threatening to send me back into a faint.

"Lizzy, are you unwell?" Her sweet hands replaced their grip of the ewer with my chilled arms.

"I -" the husky voice scratched against my throat and I had to swallow. "I do feel..." What do I feel? I was still not certain that this was not a dream, despite the pinch. Perhaps it was an elaborate scheme concocted by Jules to play into my whims, but I couldn't see her taking the trouble to this extent. If I had had an accident when returning from the office party that I don't recall I might be in a coma having hallucinations. But no, I had made it home. I remember Jax tripped me and I had hit my head. So an accident of a sorts, though doubtful that that had been enough to send me into a comatose.

Discarding all those theories, the only possibility that remained was that I, was in fact, not only back in time, but living my favorite book!

"I do feel a bit strange," I nodded cautiously. Out of giddy excitement, I reached for her steady hand and clung to it. The skin was soft and welcoming, though, at first I wasn't sure if it was hers or Lizzy's. Maybe it was the combination of the two.

"Shall I fetch mamma's smelling salts?" Jane offered, equally grasping onto my hand. I noticed that there was a glint of worry behind the brilliant eyes and I realized that her younger sister was constitutionally much more robust than what I was currently displaying.

"No, I am well. Only...unused to rising at this hour." I struggled through the words, attempting to match my language to the time. Though I couldn't make promises that I would be able to keep it up. Relinquishing my hand from hers, I took a step back and righted myself. At that moment a stomach, that was most probably not my own, let out a demanding growl that reached both our ears.

"Er...is there any breakfast left?"

Jane smiled and lead my hands to the water-filled basin. "The family will be sitting down shortly. I thought you would not want to miss your morning sustenance."

"You thought correctly."

There was what I assumed soap on the side, however the texture was altogether much more course and rough to anything I was accustomed to. But I was not complaining. I gathered the suds, lathering it between my fingers and relishing in the extraordinarily, mysterious, circumstances that had brought me here. The mirror before me was filled with a beautiful face; red lips that I had felt were slightly chapped, thus making them the colour that they were; expressive eyes that I knew would be the ones to gain Mr. Darcy's attention, and eventual love; a nose, that I had never given much thought to, lay almost impertinently pert and knowing in the centre of her curious face. The reflection almost seemed to be asking me a question to which I could only answer with a one-shouldered shrug.

I paused in my ministrations of the pursuit of cleanliness to consider what my body was doing. Was Elizabeth Bennet waking now, as I just had, in a foreign bedroom with no clue of what had happened. Was she marveling at the modern body she inhabited or perhaps she was yet to open her eyes and meet the furry sleeping companion that occupied the upper corner of her pillow. I hope she isn't allergic to cats. Though, she'd be in my body, therefore she should manage on that count.

Another thought struck me.

"Jane?" The eldest Bennet was rifling through the small wardrobe which oddly reminded me of Jules the previous night, searching for clothes to wear to the party.

"Yes, Lizzy?"

"Am I allergic to cats?" I reached for the towel that was hung on the side of the stand and dried my hands. Jane emerged from the finely shaped wardrobe with a selection of dresses tucked in her arms and a thoroughly uncomprehending mien.

"Allergic?" She repeated.

"Oh, uh. I believe I muddled the word. It's of no matter." I retracted, mentally slapping my forehead to the palm of my hand. Jane accepted what I said, though there was a lingering look of watchfulness that penetrated deeper than I thought her capable of. For all her descriptions of shyness and reserved manner, she was acutely tuned to her sisters, most of all Elizabeth.

"You do not need to worry, Jane. I am only a little tired. Maybe you would not mind helping me." I attempted to assure her. She readily consented and I saw immediately the motherly nature Jane Austen had captured in this character. This led to another series of questions. How was I in a book? If I had fallen through the stones of craigh na dun and found my self in some historical past, that would at least be more plausible. Though, I suppose Outlander is fiction in itself, however much it dealt with past events. But, I'm straying from the point. How did I end up in a book? How is that even possible?

'Who cares?' A growing voice in the back of my mind said. 'You're here. In Pride & Prejudice. Don't spoil it by asking unanswerable questions. Enjoy it.'

A sharp tug brought me out of my musings as the corset was being laced closed.

"Oh, bloody hell."

"Did you say something?" The tightening mercifully stopped with the inquiry. I took a breath and shook my head, preparing for the torture that I knew was not finished. I had only been half aware of the nightgown slipping off my shoulders and the bare skin that revealed itself to the room. Under normal circumstances I would have lunged for the nearest covering and wrapped it securely around my exposed self. But I was not in my own skin and felt strangely liberated at being vicariously naked. Jane had not been awkward at all and swiftly the chemise had been slipped over my head and I had easily fitted into it. With the corset, however, that particular garment garnered my entire attention.

The petticoat came next. It was hooked at the back and settled solidly against my bum, anchoring me further to these clothes. It was made of sturdy material - I guessed cotton - and was very pretty to look at. Jane produced only three more items to be adorned on my person; stockings, they were a cream white that looked to be silk; the actual dress, the only thing anybody would even see; and slippers to be worn about the house. They were made of a stronger material then the ones I currently wore, but I didn't know what of.

Fully dressed, I appraised my self in the mirror. I could not see under the generous bosom that sat jauntily on my chest (you lucky gal, Elizabeth) but what I saw was enough to extract a toothy smile from me. Jane waited by the door, a grin of her own gracing her features. I suddenly decided on something.

"You notice that there is something...different with me." I stated.

"I do. Though, I cannot decide what it is. It was very peculiar for you to wish me to aid you in your dressing and not Hannah."

"Yes, I suppose it was." I chuckled. The rich laugh filled the space pleasantly and brought a charmed sound to my ears. "I cannot explain what it is - I do not know how - though, I am fine for all that. I only desire you not to be too alarmed if I am...altered."

"But why should you be altered, Lizzy?" Jane stepped forward and took my hand. I searched her gaze, testing the limits I could go in telling her the truth. She would believe Lizzy in most things, I believed.

But not this.

I patted her hand and cleared my contemplative expression. "Jane, do you never feel that there are two sides to yourself?"

"I fear I do not follow."

"Do you not have a voice in your head that, at times, thinks differently then how you may act?"

Her head shook slightly, leaving her styled hair undisturbed. My own hair was pinned quickly (by Jane's hand) in a fashion I thought suited Elizabeth's face. "I can't say that I have."

"No," I smiled. "You wouldn't, would you." Apparently something in the words or tone reminded her of the Elizabeth she was familiar with, for her eyes brightened as she lead me out of the room.

The Bennet household was rather impressive. In the book, Mrs. Bennet was always prattling on about the portending death of her husband and how herself and the girls would have barely a thing to live on if the daughters did not find husbands. But if I were to compare Longbourn to any number of homes or flats (though, the latter would hardly be fair) from my time it would be no question as to which was the one I would want to move into.

Strings of notes were chiming from a piano, reaching up the stairs and greeting Jane and I as we descended.

"Mary will be glad of the delay." I assumed.

"Yes, but mamma will not be." She gently warned.

"Mary, come away from there!" Came the shrill voice of the only woman who could possibly be the matriarch of the household. Jane and I caught the others eyes as we reached the last step, pausing for a moment before entering the dining area.

There they sat - the Bennets. All in their domestic splendour, eating their breakfast. At the head of the table was Mr. Bennet. A fork in hand, absently bringing food to his open mouth as his gaze absorbed the morning paper leaning against his plate. To his immediate right and left were vacant seats to be filled by Jane and myself. Past that, there were, as Mr. Bennet would say, three of the silliest girls in all of England. Kitty and Lydia were carrying the conversation, or rather, Lydia was speaking and Kitty made a sound of agreement or acknowledgment when her sister was forced to pause for breath, or exclaim, "Lord, I'm so fat!"

Mary sat beside Kitty and was just as absorbed as her father, though there were no reading materials before her. Her attention were on her fingers, hidden from view of her mother by her plate of food that she only pecked at. She was drumming the appendages rhythmically against the white cloth covering the table until her mother made notice of it.

"What is that thumping?"

Mary abandoned her activity at once.

"Thumping, my dear. What thumping?"

"Oh, never you mind, Mr. Bennet. If it was the thumping of Mr. Bingley's hand on the door knocker it would be nothing to you. No, for certain, nothing for our girls either as they claim no acquaintance with the gentleman. And why should that gentleman come here when you have not visited him?" Mrs. Bennet lamented. At the foot of the table sat the iron maiden of the time; frilly cap covering curled hair, an unnecessary shawl guarding her against a nonexistent chill, and a gown of overwhelming proportions acting as her armour, deflecting any displeasing notions that may give unrest to her poor nerves. At the very centre of this woman warrior were her narrowed eyes staring intently at her indifferent husband.

Jane and I slipped into our respective seats as silently as possible, aiming to be excluded from the lady's wrathful glare. We were not successful.

"And may I ask why you were so late, Miss Lizzy?" The sharp tongue turned on me. Speaking correctly in front of Jane was one matter, there was no pressure to achieve the exact wording they used. Mrs. Bennet, however, demanded the very highest and I was loath to displease her.

"I overslept, ma'am," I remembered Elizabeth, in the book, once calling her mother that and thought it fitting. She sniffed and turned her pinched nose away from me and redirected it back towards her husband. When nothing more was forthcoming from him, she turned to her food and ate in silence.

Lydia casually interposed herself, brightening her mother's mood somewhat by talks of visiting their aunt Phillips in Meryton.

At present, no one required me to speak, not even Mr. Bennet whom I had imagined might have greeted me in some form. He was reading his paper as studiously as ever, though I though I detected a smile forming on his face. It did not quite touch his lips but his eyes held a humour that resembled the action.

Abstractedly, I ate, filling my stomach with the food it craved and satisfying the rumbling beast. My main attention was more closely involved in myself. The body I inhabited moved naturally - muscle memory, I supposed - though it was a bit eerie in the fact that I knew the precise distance of the salt without having to give it much thought. The arm had, suddenly, shot out to reach for the dainty container that held the condiment. My mind was still my own, that much I knew; I was still Sophie Devon. Yet I found myself putting together words and sentences of an almost archaic nature. It could be the influence of the time and hearing it spoken aloud, and I have never been wholly unfamiliar with the older language that filled the majority of the books I read, but it was still an odd realization.

I was swallowing a piece of sausage when Mr. Bennet finally looked away from his paper to first glance at his wife (who no longer watched him) and then to bring his eyes to rest on me.

"A very big appetite, Lizzy. Is it occasioned by your distress at not meeting Mr. Bingley, or delight that you have escaped an acquaintance you had much rather not make."

An intake of breath was heard from the foot of the table.

"Neither, sir," I replied with maybe a tad more enthusiasm than the occasion called for. "I eat only for the comfort of myself, not my whims."

"A very sound practice." He returned. I felt that he was not quite finished, and so waited for what I was sure to come.

In the corner, on a spare chair, was a bonnet that I did not know who the owner was. Mr. Bennet's roving eyes flicked to it for a second. "I hope Mr. Bingley will like it Lizzy." My bonnet then. And not only was that my bonnet, but I recognized what Mr. Bennet had just said. I had figured that my arrival coincided with the beginning of the story since Jane lived at home still, as did all the Bennet girls. It was confirmed by Mrs. Bennet's mention of Bingley. Now, however, I was witnessing actual quotes from the actual book.

"We are not in a way to know what Mr. Bingley likes since we are not to visit." The foot of the table spoke resentfully.

"But you forget, mama," I said, thanking the heavens that I had not only watched this exchange last night on my telly, but had finished the book for the hundredth time not a week ago. "That we shall meet him at the assemblies, and that Mrs. Long has promised to introduce him."

"I do not believe Mrs. Long will do any such thing. She has two nieces of her own. She is a selfish, hypocritical woman, and I have no opinion of her."

"No more have I, and I am glad to find that you do not depend on her serving you." Mr. Bennet interjected. At this point, his wife clearly wished to ignore the fact that he had spoken so began scolding Kitty.

"Don't keep coughing so, Kitty, for heaven's sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces."

"Kitty has no discretion in her coughs," Mr. Bennet said; "she times them ill."

"I do not cough for my own amusement." The young girl looked fretfully between her mother and father, attempting to contain another cough that was visibly trying to escape her throat.

"When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?"

I stammered. 'Oh, what is it? What does she say?'

"Tomorrow fortnight." I felt extremely accomplished.

"Aye, so it is," cried mamma. I giggled to myself. "And Mrs. Long does not come back till the day before; so, it will be impossible for her to introduce him, for she will not know him herself."

"Then, my dear, you may have the advantage of your friend, and introduce Mr. Bingley to her."

"Impossible, Mr. Bennet, impossible, when I am not acquainted with him myself; how can you be so teasing?" She accused. Her husband took no notice of her tone; at least he showed no signs of it.

"I honour your circumspection. A fortnight's acquaintance is certainly very little. One cannot know what a man really is by the end of a fortnight. But if we do not venture, somebody else will; and after all, Mrs. Long and her nieces must stand their chance; and therefore, as she will think it an act of kindness, if you decline the office, I will take it on myself."

I noticed the other girls all staring at their father, so I did likewise with an increasingly difficult task of keeping my grin hidden. From the foot of the table, I heard, "nonsense, nonsense!"

"What can be the meaning of that emphatic exclamation? Do you consider the forms of introduction, and the stress that is laid on them, as nonsense? I cannot quite agree with you there. What say you, Mary?" He turned abruptly to his third child. "For you are a young lady of deep reflection I know, and read great books, and make extracts."

Mary, I knew, who sat directly to my right, struggled to form a sentence that would display her sensibilities; but as it was in the book, it was so here. She could not.

"While Mary is adjusting her ideas," he continued, "let us return to Mr. Bingley."

"I am sick of Mr. Bingley," cried Mrs. Bennet, waving her arms frantically at her sides in agitation.

"I am sorry to hear that; but why did not you tell me so before? If I had known as much this morning, I certainly would not have called on him. It is very unlucky; but as I have actually paid the visit, we cannot escape the acquaintance now."

There was a beat and instinctively, I raised my fingers to cover my ears.

"Oh, Mr. Bennet!"

"Papa, why should you have not told us?" Lydia pouted.

"I have spoken of it to you now."

"How good it was in you, my dear Mr. Bennet! But I knew I should persuade you at last. I was sure you loved your girls too well to neglect such an acquaintance. Well, how pleased I am! And it is such a good joke, too, that you should have gone this morning, and never said a word about it till now."

"Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose," Mr. Bennet said as he dropped his napkin onto his plate and left the room, looking slightly fatigued by the over exuberant excitement of his wife.

"What an excellent father you have, girls," Mrs. Bennet said once the door was shut. "I do not know how you will ever make him amends for his kindness; or me either, for that matter. At our time of life, it is not so pleasant I can tell you, to be making new acquaintance every day; but for your sakes, we would do anything. Lydia, my love, though you are the youngest, I dare say Mr. Bingley will dance with you at the next ball."

"Oh!" The youngest girl puffed up her chest with a toss of her head as she said stoutly, "I am not afraid; for though I am the youngest, I'm the tallest."

I hid a smirk. Lord knows Lydia is not afraid of meeting new men. I stilled my fork, letting it drop back to the table.

I couldn't deny that my current circumstance rung similarly to those of Amanda Price from Lost in Austen, though I am not an added person to the story. I was transplanted right into Elizabeth Bennet; but was the purpose the same. Nothing as of yet had gone differently (Lord, I hope not. Right now would only be the third chapter) but perhaps I was put here to warn Lydia about Wickham, though no one could warn Lydia and expect her to listen. I would have to be discreet and do my best to keep them separated.

'But,' whispered another part of my brain, 'this is the story. What if Lydia is meant to go with Wickham. After all, that event is one of the main things that pulls the star-crossed lovers together.'

Well, I didn't have to decide anything right now. And whose to say that I'll even be here that long? It might not even concern me.

With that relatively settled, I turned my attention back to the speculation of when Mr. Bingley might return the visit and how soon the Bennet's should invite the gentleman to dinner.

Days passed and I found myself molding into the country life of the Regency Era. I woke, I dressed, I went out and searched for the different paths that I knew Elizabeth Bennet must have trekked, I breakfasted with the family; steadily growing more comfortable with my speech and more familiar with each of the Bennets. With no surprise to myself, Jane was the one I became closest to. Despite the sometimes curious glances she sent my way, there was an ease between us that I found comforting as a surprising homesickness visited me at night when my thoughts would calm and begin to analyze everything.

The first few days I was full to the brim of giddy excitement and elation. With the passing of time, however, I began wondering if this was it. Was I stuck here? Was Elizabeth stuck there? How was she faring and was she acclimatizing herself to the modern era? I at least knew what I was doing, but she was thrown into a world she probably thought impossible.

Most nights I worried if anyone was feeding Jax. Jules didn't have it in her mind to feed him as he was really my cat, but I hope that if she saw Elizabeth not feeding him that she would do it herself.

Alas, with all my night-thoughts of home they were not strong enough to induce me in wishing to return - at least not yet. I still had Mr. Darcy to meet.

It happened that Mr. Bingley, not his friend, would be the first to be observed. It was a minor detail in the book that occurred just before the ball that I had nearly forgotten of his visiting. But he did indeed come to talk with Mr. Bennet, though was not permitted in being introduced to the women of the house.

"What cruel fate!" Lydia had cried, setting down her hat she'd been trimming. In the past quarter of an hour, she had adjusted herself between the two attitudes of working diligently with muttering lips; to then discarding the work altogether and disturbing the peace of the room by loudly bemoaning the missed opportunity of the gentleman's acquaintance.

I had been keeping my head down and my work out of sight. Sewing, trimming, or needlework of any kind were sure to be my ruin. I had neither the patience, concentration, nor the skill in the finer arts attributed to the ladies. I sat silently in my small corner, listening to Lydia only.

"I know, my dear! How vexed I was to find that Mr. Bingley had called but was in with your father; and not to be introduced. A very harsh thing I say, a very harsh thing." Mrs. Bennet was not occupied with any articles of cloth, save for her handkerchief that was clutched desperately by her white knuckles.

"Mamma, we shall meet Mr. Bingley at the ball," Jane soothed, "a much more appropriate place for introductions."

"To be sure," the woman warrior rose from her chair and began pacing the room with great agitation. I slunk more securely in my corner lest she see my disgraceful work. "Half the county will have the honour of the more appropriate introduction. But what of you, girls? Had your father not thought of that?" She huffed. "No, instead he entertains Mr. Bingley himself, talking of heaven knows what, while my poor nerves suffer at the wooden barrier separating my girls from future happiness."

Almost like a dog, Lydia and Kitty, perked up and cast doleful glances down the hall. Unconsciously, I must have emitted a small snort or giggle of mirth, for the next second my attempts of darning were snatched from me and exposed to the room for ridicule.

"For heaven's sake, what have you been doing to it?" Mrs. Bennet exclaimed. I tried to reach for it but she turned and walked to the window for better light. I quickly sprang to my feet and followed her, though I didn't dare take it back. Instead I waited with my toes curling under my feet.

"Elizabeth, what is this? What do you mean by it?" Her questions were not designed to be answered, so I held my tongue. "What if Mr. Bingley had entered and desired to gaze upon your work; your chances of a marriage proposal would have lessened considerably."

"But mamma, he has not come to us and should he ever look at my work I will make sure that it is top notch." I could thing to only say that. Top notch just sort of slipped out.

She pursed her lips, deciding on whether to punish me further or let it lie. Her mind was made, not by herself, but by Lydia, who had ignored my poor darning but had been watching for Mr. Bingley out the window.

"There he is!" She exclaimed pulling everyone to the window she stood at.

Mr. Bingley was a tall person. We could not see his face, but his coat was a brilliant blue and he mounted a black horse with the ease of a natural. I looked over at Jane and nudged her.

"I believe his height would suit you."

"Please, Lizzy." She replied, dropping her eyes modestly. A shy smile ghosted her lips, however.

Charlotte Lucas was the first character I met outside of the family. Her slightly older age presented itself in the air of an almost maternal quality. But, while Jane possessed similar traits, Charlotte was much more dowdy in her exhibition of it. I hate to say it as such, but it was my first impression. I liked her nonetheless, and besides Jane she was the one I most looked forward to seeing each morning.

Her mother, Lady Lucas, had come with some of her children, including Charlotte, to gossip with Mrs. Bennet of the new neighbor taking residence of Netherfield Hall. Much of the discussion was on the topic of how many gentleman and ladies Mr. Bingley was to bring back with him from town. Their had been a clamour at the number of twelve ladies, but I only smiled and leaned over to whisper to Charlotte.

"I am thinking that there will only be two ladies at the time of the ball."

"How can you be sure?" She asked amused. I daintily shrugged a shoulder.

"Perhaps by the way he carried himself. It suggested that he prefers intimacy rather than..." I hesitated a moment, trying to think of a word that sounded right. "...a large party." I ended lamely.

"You could not have gathered that from how he sat his horse." Charlotte returned.

"I will not argue with you, but I am very positive that come time, we will see Mr. Bingley with only two ladies."

"Two ladies?" I heard Lydia repeat, her expounding voice capturing the attention of the room. "Have you heard differently from the rumours, then?" She asked excitedly. All eyes were suddenly trained on me and if I had the chance of going back in time once more, for only a few minutes, I would have kept my bragging mouth quiet.

"Lizzy has made the premature assumption that Mr. Bingley will be bringing only two ladies of his acquaintance to the ball. She has no basis for this thought other than the way the gentleman mounts his horse." Charlotte teased.

"Indeed," I hastily agreed, "by no means listen to me. I am most probably wrong."

"Though, that you had been right," Lydia huffed as she slouched in her chair. Her mother patted her arm in sympathy.

"It is an unfortunate number, my dear. Very unfortunate."

I let the visit pass with no further fortune-telling on my part.


	3. Occurrences Unexpected

If I had to describe the preparations that took a vice like grip over Longbourn it would exhaust me all over again and send me into dread to think of ever having to repeat those actions. My exasperation mainly came from the corset that Hannah saw fit to close to its most extreme and leave me in constant want of air. To think of adding more layers of clothing atop had me glaring at all who approached me with entreaties that it was absolutely necessary that I wear something over my undergarments.

"For what reason? I'm covered aren't I? I'll suffocate if you try to put another thing on me."

"You do not need me to answer your question," Jane said, holding up the evening gown I was meant to be wearing to attend the assembly room in Meryton. "I believe you mean to goad me, Lizzy, but I shall not fall prey to your teasing." She smoothly set the frock on my bed (Elizabeth's bed; there was still confusion in my head on how to address things) and walked out of the room, her own muslin gown flowing with ethereal beauty about her legs and ankles.

I eyed the gown with misgivings.

"If we're to share this evening together let's get one thing straight," I lifted the delicate dress by the quarter length sleeves and held it up in front of my face. "I am not afraid of tearing you to pieces should I need air, so don't think you've won, alright."

Taking in as much of a gulp of air as possible, I squirmed into the gown, relieved slightly at the lightness of the material.

"Whoo," I breathed, "let's see then." The mirror dutifully reflected the figure before it, showing a beautiful young woman with a quirk of inquisitiveness that made the features all the more intriguing.

"Barely tolerable. Ha! Who were you fooling, Darcy?" I mildly said to myself. There were a few buttons on the back that I could not reach without impaling my spleen with the boning of the corset, so when I heard footsteps traipsing past my door I stuck my head out into the hall.

"Lydia, would you mind helping me with this?" She was nearly ready herself, or she would be if she did not continue to change her mind on what she would wear. The dress she currently wore was her third and no doubt not her last.

"You look nice Lizzy." She complimented. Her fingers worked quickly, plucking the tiny buttons through and closing the dress.

"Thank you. And you," I turned and held her shoulders to keep her a moment longer; "look very pretty. I do not think you need to raid your cupboard any more."

"Do you really think so?" She stepped back and scooped a fist of material in either hand and pulled the dress away from her body, twirling slightly from side to side. "Kitty said it looked horrid, but I thought it was rather nice."

"Compared to the first two I would recommend this be the one you go out in tonight."

She stepped in front of the mirror and smiled at herself. "No matter which I decide I will look fine in any, but I think I will listen to your words and wear this one. It suits my frame."

"Indeed it does." My remark was accompanied by a minor roll of the eyes as I ushered her out of the room.

"Oh, girls, how nice you look." Mrs. Bennet stopped suddenly. She had been crossing the expanse of the hall with her wide eyes set on Jane's closed bedroom door. Most probably she had it in mind to see her eldest daughter's progress and to judge if the result would do; rich single men must be snared after all. She, herself was in a state of disarray; half her hair was pinned up in neat order, though the other half could not claim such tidiness. Much of the stripped cloth she wore in twisted knots were scattered about her head that would no doubt produce lovely curls once released from their bonds, but at present she looked more like a comic version of a regency Cruella De vil with the two different styles splitting her head. The dress she wore was rather exuberant for her position and with her static energy of half muttered sentences and disjointed utterances she was likely to overwhelm the entire gathering that would be the Meryton Ball.

"Lydia, might you consider wearing your white frock?" Mrs. Bennet suggested as she took in her youngest's appearance. "It does so compliment your complexion."

"She has already changed three times," I exasperated, "if she does so once more her entire skin may just fall off with the dress."

I was met with blank stares.

"Well, I dare say there is no need for vulgarity but I shall take you at your word that Lydia would do best if she remained in her current attire."

I nodded my head and then ducked back into the room. A second later there was a repetitious knocking a few doors down and the voice of Jane answering it. I shut my eyes and smiled. In just over an hours time Jane will meet Mr. Bingley and I - I will meet the hero who has stolen a good many hearts from a good many time periods. Trying to picture him only brought up images of Colin Firth or Matthew Macfadyen which was nothing to go by as no one so far resembled their modern counterparts. I would have to just wait and see.

Picking up my gloves that lay on the dresser, I mindlessly put them on as I exited the room and descended the stairs. I kept a weather eye out for Mrs. Bennet, but she was busy with Jane; all the others were in their respective rooms. The person I sought was one who would not be attending the festivities tonight.

"Come." Mr. Bennet's hearty voice answered the knock I had rapped on his study door. The hinges squeaked slightly as I entered and the floor was not all that silent either. Though it was not yet an old house, it showed signs of wear.

"Good evening, father."

"Good evening, Lizzy." He held a book in one hand while the other reached for a glass of sherry on a side table; never breaking contact with the pages before him, he closed his fingers around the delicate glass. I took a seat on an uncomfortable sofa that was set in a rather dark corner of the study; its function to pose only for politeness and not to really encourage any one to sit on it. There was a peaceful silence between us as I watched him read; the muffled clamours of upstairs thankfully receding from both my mind and my hearing.

"How do you do, Lizzy?"

"Me, sir?" I questioned.

"You, miss." Marking his place, he set his book down and brought his eyes to mine. "You are the only daughter I have christened Elizabeth, and currently you are the only other to share my study with me, though you do so quietly. Do you mean to observe my methods of evading the raptures of your mother?"

"No, sir," I laughed, "I do no such thing. I - "

"Yes?"

My eyes flashed him a guilty look. "I, too, am trying to evade Mrs -, er, mamma's enthusiasm."

"Ah." He raised his glass to me and took a sip, sloshing the liquid in his mouth before swallowing it. "I am told that there will be twelve ladies of Mr. Bingley's party. However, I know your mother is up to the task of wading through their numbers to make you and your sisters the sole of the gentleman's gaze."

"There is little worry over that then." There was a debate in my mind on whether I should tell him the true number of ladies attending but then I thought better of it as my boasting with Charlotte had led to some embarrassment. He'll find out everything once we return anyway.

"You are sure to have your dance card full tonight, with or without the aid of your mother." He said kindly, nodding at my appearance. Here I could not resist saying, "that may be so, but I'm sure to at least one I will be barely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt."

Before Mr. Bennet could respond to what I'm sure he assumed an odd statement, I heard the shrill voice of 'mamma' calling me to hurry from wherever I saw fit to hide and ruin the chances of my sisters by making them too late to meet Mr. Bingley.

"Goodnight father." I bent and naturally kissed him on the temple, feeling a small jolt strike within me as I did so. Ignoring it, I rushed out of the study and hurried out of the house to find the others stepping into the carriage.

Well, it was certainly a ball even though it was a country ball, it seemed grand - and me a Londoner. The band was seated at the front of the hall, playing their instruments in toe-tapping unison bringing an itch to my feet that I knew I would not be able to scratch. The crush of people astounded me slightly. I'd been expecting something a little more quaint, but most probably the mothers of the county shared Mrs. Bennet's desire of advancing their daughters. For this reason, there was an unequal ratio of women to men, forcing much of the former group to sit out during some of the dances.

For my part, I did not mind sitting on the side and watching all the happenings of an assembly in 1813. The dances were fascinating to watch as they were longer and much more intricate then they were represented on screen. The footwork alone had me wondering why none of the ladies were tripping on their hems or how they were even able to jump and jig when I knew their corsets must be as tight as mine.

Kitty and Lydia were among the dancers, flirting and smiling throughout every reel. Jane was more sedate in her manners, but she too stood up with a partner as often as the younger girls. That left only Mary and myself to sit on the side - one of us glad to be left alone, the other wishing she knew the steps. Guess which one was me. There had been a fair number of gents inquiring to stand up with me, but I had to respectfully decline and inform them that I was not dancing this evening. Thankfully Mrs. Bennet had not been around to hear my refusals. Mary only kept to herself with a most bored expression on her face.

It was not until very late in the night that the anticipated party arrived with only two ladies and two gentleman besides Mr. Bingley.

There he was; tall, dark haired, strong build and for the life of me I could not see his face. There were too many people milling about between the space of where I sat and the door that he had just entered through. A glimpse of his profile was fleeting, but it showed signs of a straight nose. At last the rest of the assembly became aware of the silent presence of the honourable guests and all went quiet. The band stopped, the dancers stayed their tapping feet and the milling crowd slowed to a stop until at last - if I stood up - I saw Mr. Darcy.

"Holy crap." I muttered. No one heard me but I still brought my hand to my lips to prevent any further slips of the tongue.

He was nothing like the book, nothing like the mini-series, and nothing like the movie. He was handsome, yes, but oh my goodness you can't imagine that kind of handsome. He was striking with a masculinity despite the knee-length breeches he wore and I found myself happy to stare at him for as long as he was in my line of vision.

I barely spared a glance for Bingley, and as for the others, they were all snobs anyway.

"Lizzy, Jane, come here!" The whisper, that was too loud to actually be a whisper, of Mrs. Bennet pulled me from my daydreaming. She was frantically motioning her arms for the pair of us to come to her.

"You see that gentleman there?" Her eyes darted to Mr. Darcy who stood stoically behind his friend, watching the dancers continue their revelry as the band struck up a new song. With the knowledge of his true character, he did not look so above his company, but rather, he looked uncomfortable - almost shy.

"Lady Lucas has just told me he's Mr. Bingley's oldest friend. His name is Darcy, and has a mighty fortune and a great estate in Derbyshire.Bingley's wealth is nothing to his," here she paused for a dramatic draw of her breath; "£10,000 a year at least. Don't you think he's the handsomest man you've ever seen, girls?" Need she even ask.

Sir William, a pudgy old fellow, was currently conversing with Mr. Bingley with quite a few glances directed our way.

"I think they are coming over," I said mildly, trying to keep my own voice from rising above a squeak. Mrs. Bennet straightened herself and put on a wondrously gracious smiles, telling us to do the same.

"Mrs. Bennet," Sir William's round voice announced his presence and that of the gentleman at his side. Darcy trailed just behind, occasionally looking at the dancers and once or twice glancing our way. Our eyes met for an instant but he quickly turned them back round in the opposite direction.

"Mr. Bingley has expressed a wish to become acquainted with you and your daughters."

"Sir, that is very good of you," Mrs. Bennet laughed breathlessly as she curtsied. Jane and I followed suit as the gentleman bowed.

'Whoa, just a bit surreal, there.'

"This is Jane, my eldest; and Elizabeth," I smiled and looked at Mr. Bingley properly for the first time. He was not so bad himself, certainly handsome, but compared to his friend - sorry.

"Mary sits over there; and Kitty and Lydia my youngest, you see, they're dancing." Mr. Bingley looked to where the woman pointed, but surely he could not distinguish them from any of the others who were skipping and jumping with joined hands.

"Do you like to dance yourself?" Mrs. Bennet asked.

"There is nothing I love better and if Miss Bennet is not otherwise engaged may I be so bold as to claim the next two dances?"

Jane smiled bewitchingly, though she was hardly aware of it, and said, "I am not engaged, sir."

"Good!"

The music came to the end of yet another song and Jane and Mr. Bingley gathered with the other couples who were to be dancing next. I was a bit surprised that Mr. Darcy hadn't walked off and offended Mrs. Bennet yet, but there he stood and in fact he was stepping forward.

"Would you care to dance, Miss Bennet?"

I blinked.

He couldn't be.

"I'm sorry?"

"Thank the gentleman, Lizzy." Mrs. Bennet nudged me forward so that his extended hand was right under my nose.

"I - " Only stammers and stutters came out. I couldn't refuse him in front of 'mamma', she'd persist and argue and make a scene that would do no one any good. Time felt to have paused as I thought of the best way to get out of this unprecedented situation. Mrs. Bennet sped things along when she forcibly grabbed my hand and placed it in Mr. Darcy's.

"Uh - "

We were walking towards the row of couples and I felt beads of sweat begin to sprout under my armpits and between my breasts.

"Mr. Darcy," I gently pulled on his arm to stop him from walking. He looked down at me and I tried my hardest not to smile at his stern demeanour. "I am honoured at your request and I do not wish to cause offence, but I cannot dance tonight; I am unable to do so this evening." I watched his eyes for any hint of emotion, but it was well hidden. He released my hand, bowed, and then said, "excuse me," before nobly making his way back to Bingley's sisters and Mr. Hurst.

'Well done, Sophie.' But really, what could I have done? I would have made Elizabeth look like a complete idiot if I had danced with him. And more importantly, he wasn't even supposed to ask me to dance. What was that about? What - am I so different to Elizabeth that he suddenly found her tolerable and found himself inclined to give consequence to young ladies slighted by other men? Really. This story was starting to get a mind of its own and I wasn't so sure that was a good thing.

I meandered through the people until I located Charlotte sitting with her younger sister Maria, chatting happily and with no sense of impending danger. Their company would do me good.

"Two ladies after all." She said by way of greeting. I smiled as I sat next to her.

"As I said, Mr. Bingley's mien suggested intimate circles."

"You have brought to life a talent, then." Charlotte teased. There was a gap of silence before she spoke again.

"I saw you with Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. Are you not to dance with him?"

'You too, huh.'

"No, I am not feeling quite myself tonight."

"I had noticed, but surely you would not want to slight a man of his worth."

"I did no slighting," I returned. "I merely excused myself with all the grace I could muster and as you see, he complied."

"I thought he looked rather disconcerted at your refusal."

So maybe coming to Charlotte was not the best idea. "He'll get over it," I muttered, "he's a big boy."

For the rest of the evening, everything occurred as I knew it to be, except for Lizzy dancing with Mr. Bingley - that didn't happen - but he did stand up with Charlotte and then returned to Jane with a big toothy smile. Mrs. Bennet watched all with her darting eye; she beamed at her eldest daughter, glared at me, sighed over Mary's hermit like tendencies and laughed with her youngest children. Mr. Bennet would be getting an earful, as would I most likely. Every now and then I let my gaze roam to where I knew Mr. Darcy stood; most times he was staring off into space, but on occasion I would find that his eyes were on me, though they would quickly look away once our eyes met.

'Well, I hope I didn't bugger this up too bad.'

The morning after the Meryton Ball did not sit well with me. I wasn't sure if I had effected anything negatively by refusing to dance with Mr. Darcy or if everything would sort itself in the end. I wasn't even sure if what happened here would change anything in my world in regards to Pride & Prejudice. I mean, how could it? It was fiction.

I tried to set my mind to the next meeting with Mr. Darcy so that I might remember every detail of the encounter to make sure I fulfill it completely when I recalled the event to be the Lucas's party, but no invitation had been delivered yet which made me wonder if that little party would even be happening. After all, I had already refused to dance with Mr. Darcy; not to say that's how things worked, but who knows. The next meeting would then be when Elizabeth went to Netherfield to check on Jane's health.

That was another thing weighing heavy with me. Before bed last night, Jane and I had stayed up to talk of the ball when I had noticed a rim around her eyes and her nose looking a little swollen. She had coughed a few times and that gave me some concern.

Now, at breakfast, the sky was darkening and Hill had just brought in the morning post with a letter for Miss Bennet from Netherfield. Mrs. Bennet's ears perked up and the rest of her was not long to follow. Her husband presented a slightly battered facade, no doubt the result of being bombarded by every last detail of the previous nights activities and having to hear how 'his Lizzy' flatly refused to stand up with Mr. Darcy. On entering the breakfast parlour that morning I had received a sympathetic smile from the patriarch of the household.

"From Netherfield! Oh, Jane! Well, what does it say?"

"It is from Miss Bingley." Jane informed, poorly keeping the grin from spreading on her face.

"Oh!" The disappointed shock was evident in Mrs. Bennet's voice, but she covered it quickly by exclaiming, "oh, well that is a good sign too." She tossed her napkin onto her plate and tottered over to where Jane sat. "Give it to me." She snatched the letter from her daughter's hands, completely unaware of Jane's put out expression, and began reading the letter aloud.

Her voice reached a particular high, that I believed only bats would be able to hear, when she reached the part of the letter that told that the gentlemen would be dining with the officers. "Oh, that is unfortunate. Still, you must go and make what you can of it. 'Yours ever," she finished the letter, "Caroline Bingley.' Very elegant hand."

"May I have the carriage, father?" Jane asked. Mr. Bennet opened his mouth full of food to answer when he was stopped unceremoniously by his wife.

"The carriage! No, indeed! You must go on horseback, for it looks like rain, then you will have to stay the night."

"Mother!" Jane cried aghast. Her slightly red eyes opened to their fullest as she looked from Mrs. Bennet to Mr. Bennet.

"Mamma," I interjected, "I do not think it would be wise to send Jane out in this weather. As you say, it looks like rain and I believe she is coming down with a cold."

"A cold, what nonsense." Mrs. Bennet cried. "She has no more cold than I, and even if she should it would ensure her seeing Mr. Bingley."

"But to intentionally send her into a storm -"

"Lizzy, I will hear no more. Jane you will go on horseback. You would go all the way to Netherfield and back without seeing Mr. Bingley! No, indeed. You will go on Nellie; that will do very well indeed." Both Jane and I looked to Mr. Bennet but he only gave us a look, as he patted his lips with his napkin, that said all too clearly that there was nothing to be done.

I fretted horribly. It was one thing to read that one Jane Bennet rides out during a rain shower and gets herself soaked and cloaked in water and develops a trifling cold, it was another entirely to see a living, breathing person, whom I've grown personally attached to, whose clearly already feeling under the weather, go out to receive all the anger of the thickening clouds.

"I will be fine Lizzy." Jane tried to reassure me. She was already mounted, side saddle, atop of Nellie as the first drops of rain were starting to hit the top of her bonnet and my bare head.

"Isn't there anything you can cover yourself with?" I inquired for the hundredth time. She was currently sporting three wide handkerchiefs that I had her wrap snugly around her neck, a shawl, and her riding habit which was some protection but not much. If only this period had raincoats.

"I am already as covered as I wish to be. It is not a terrible journey to Netherfield, Lizzy, and I do not feel as terrible as you make me out to be." She gently remonstrated.

"Just make it there as fast as you can."

She nodded, then clicked her tongue and nudged Nellie's side, maneuvering the horse forward. The rain was not heavy yet, though it would be. The sun was utterly blocked from view and there was a blasting wind that shook the branches of the trees with violence; soggy leaves were being tossed into the air and stuck to my dress. Jane was now a pinprick on the lane that in a second would be gone completely by the distance as well as the strengthening rain.

'I can't let her go out there alone.' I thought. 'Things have already changed in the story; what if this is another? What if something happens?'

I couldn't clear my thoughts of the pessimistic ones and my worry mounted to a peak that I could no longer bear it. I went in search of one of Elizabeth's sisters.

"Kitty, can you do something for me?"

"What is it, Lizzy?"

"I'm going after Jane. The storm is stronger than I think mamma anticipated. I need you only to tell them where I have gone once they ask, not before. Do you understand?" I spoke in a low voice as I put on a spencer and wrapped two thick shawls about myself. I fumbled a bit on the ribbons of my bonnet so Kitty lended her fingers and tied a loose bow under my chin.

"I understand, Lizzy, and I will do what you ask."

"Sweet girl," I hastily took her face in my hands and kissed the top of her head. "Mind, you don't tell even Lydia before the appointed time."

"I understand." She repeated.

The rain was now a sheet that transformed the few puddles in the front of the house into a marsh. I could feel my boots sinking down in the squelching mud that clung to the soles like glue, making it very difficult to make any kind of progress. My mind was set, however, and though I wasn't entirely sure what I was meant to be doing once I caught up with Jane, I knew I would feel better once I was with her and could make sure that she was out of danger. The path that I followed was a worn one with many tracks of both man and beast, making it impossible to distinguish which were Nellie's. It wasn't until I was a good way out in the middle of the storm and a good way away from Longbourn that I realized I didn't actually know where Netherfield was.

"Well, if I follow this path it must lead to some place where there's people." I muttered to myself. "Oh, I'm so stupid sometimes!" I shouted a second later, kicking the muddy ground in front of me. It splattered up and hit me in the face. "Ugh!"

I wiped the dirt of with the edge of one of the shawls I wore but didn't feel much better after that as I now felt damp and wet across my mouth.

"Jane, where are you!" I shouted as loud as I could but there was no answer. I hardly expected one. So I continued, too stubborn to turn back and still too worried to leave my initial pursuit.I felt I had been walking for years, though, and my legs were starting to feel leaden.

Experiencing the storm myself added a whole new level of fears. What if she slid off the saddle and lay in a ditch? What if Nellie became lame and they fell in a ditch? What if some man assaulted her, stole Nellie, and threw Jane into a ditch? Ditches always seemed prevalent in literature that I figured there must be an awful lot to fall into. I was so consumed by my rumblings that I nearly missed the first glimpses of a large home situated very neatly below a hill. Netherfield Hall.

"Oh, thank my stars!" I exulted.

The rest of the way I half ran, half slid until I approached the estate. There was a grand entry stair that I brought my gaze to. At the very top was a familiar figure being admitted to the house.

I let a constricting breath out. 'She's safe and in no ditch.'

I stood for a little while, however, contemplating on whether I should ask to see her, when I thought better of it. She'll be sick now, but she's meant to be. My main concern was her not being able to make it to Netherfield.

With a last glance at the estate, I turned and began making my way back to Longbourn. The rain, I noticed was beginning to lighten and I was grateful for that, but I was completely soaked and shivering as I walked along the path. The muck was horrible and I felt my legs were suctions having to be tugged on to be released from the pull of the mud.

At last the rain stopped completely and I shut my eyes in a moments peace of being able to hear my own self think again when my introspection was interrupted by the sound of horses hooves.

"Miss Bennet?" My eyes shot open to see the startled face of Mr. Darcy. He had some wet marks on his hat and coat from the drizzle he must have been riding in, but he was nevertheless much drier than I was. I felt suddenly self conciseness and found that while it was Elizabeth's body, too much was being seen under the delicate material of the dress. We did not say anything for a moment as we both stared at the other, until at last, I could bear it no longer.

"I thought you and Mr. Bingley were dining with the officers."

My voice seemed to snap him out of his shock. "Yes, I - I was, but I left early. How did you know?"

"Miss Bingley wrote to my sister and invited her to dine with herself and Mrs. Hurst. The invitation informed Jane that the gentlemen would not be present." I explained automatically. I was trying to process this new mash of things.

My answer did not provide clarity, however, if Mr. Darcy's expression was anything to go by. He dismounted and walked over, removing his coat as he did so, all the while looking at me curiously.

"That does not explain why you are here, shivering and alone on the road back from Netherfield. Were you turned away at the door?" He asked as he pulled his coat closed around me. I felt instant warmth and a desire to bury my nose in the fabric; I held back from this inclination.

"No, sir. I did not even approach the door. I - I wanted to," I bit my lip, then stopped as I realized that wasn't a proper thing for women to do. I felt his steady gaze on me and for some reason was reminded of Dan the last night I was in my life. I had been too scared to look up at him, to see what I could read in those telling eyes. I felt a similar apprehension presently and had to swallow the lump in my throat before speaking.

"Jane had to come on horseback and I was worried something might happen to her on the way."

"You followed her? And on foot?! In the middle of a storm?!" He said with agitated shock.

"I did." I said, meeting his eyes. His tone was severe and not at all romantic, therefore I was not afraid to level my gaze with his.

"Well, do you know how foolish that was?"

"Are you alright?" I asked, suddenly feeling a pressure at the back of my head.

"I am perfectly fine, madam; you are the one who has scampered about the country in the middle of a rain shower."

"You're slurring your words though."

The next moment I felt strong arms encircle me as the path all at once seemed to be getting closer to my face.

"Miss Bennet?"

"Yes."

"Can you stand, Miss Bennet?"

"I am standing, and it's Miss Devon to you, mister." A strange kind of numb headache erupted suddenly in my brain and I clutched my head; there were stars whizzing about behind the closed shutters of my eyelids. In the next instant the feeling was gone and some presence of mind was returned to me. The first thing to come to my notice was that I was being held by Mr. Darcy.

"What are you doing? Put me down." I uselessly struggled.

"You fainted Miss Bennet." He calmly told me. I stopped my attempts to be put down.

"I did."

"Mmm." Was his only response. He was carrying me over to his grazing horse and delicately placed me on the saddle; a moment later he mounted and situated himself behind me.

"What's happening?" I drowsily asked, watching his hands come to be on either side of my waist as he took up the reigns; he clicked his tongue to guide his horse onwards and we began moving.

"I'm taking you to Netherfield." He said matter-of-factly.

"Why not Longbourn?"

"Netherfield is closer and I fear you may collapse again."

"Oh." Was all I said. Some minutes passed with nothing but silence between us until I broke the quiet.

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet." His voice was close to my ear and I felt a flutter rise in my stomach which had nothing to do with my fainting.

"Thank you."

There was a pause. "At your service, madam."


	4. Being Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Darcy POV in this chapter, which will continue sporadically throughout the story.

My head spun as we made our way to Netherfield, leaving me feeling that if I had been sitting alone I wouldn't be sitting for long but falling to the soggy ground. The strong arms that rested on either side of my waist dispelled any fears on that front as they anchored me to the saddle. The sky was still grey and the air moist and I could see out of the corner of my eyes that my hair was frizzing in a very tangled way. Thoughts of appearance were not most urgent in my mind as I could hardly see straight in front of me. Black spots blurred my vision and I had to put out my hand to steady the spinning that was threatening to plunge me back in unconsciousness. The first thing to grasp was the pommel; my hand shot out from where it rested by my side and seized hold of the smooth handle.

"Miss Bennet?"

Darcy's voice sounded foggy, as if it were coming from the other end of a tunnel.

"Mm. 'm alright. Just - " I couldn't finish my sentence. Instead I closed my eyes and held my forehead in my other hand.

"Here, lean yourself on me, if you must. It would not do to have you falling off the front of my horse."

I cracked open an eye and saw that I was, indeed, very close to teetering off the mare's neck. For some reason I found this immensely humorous and couldn't stop a giggle from bubbling over my lips.

"That wouldn't be very decent of me, would it?"

For Mr. Darcy's part, he refrained from answering that question.

I did as he suggested and leaned my back against his front, feeling for all the world, despite my nausea, that I was in heaven. After that brief exchange, talk was limited and I contended my self to resting my head on his shoulder with my eyes shut to the peeping sun that was first making its tentative appearance after the storm. My thoughts concerning Jane returned when I felt the shadow of Netherfield's impressive structure fall across my face, stirring me from my shallow doze. My head pitched and I felt as if the entire world was within me, spinning at breakneck speeds. If these were early signs of my coming down with a cold, they were very persuasive. I only hoped that Jane was not feeling as disoriented as I.

The clopping of the horse's hooves on the drive crunched mercilessly in my ears and beneath my now sore bottom.

"Fields, see to her." The command was given next to my ear and sounded unnecessarily loud. A moment later, I felt myself being pushed off the horse and down into somebody's waiting arms. I tried to see who, but the motion of turning my head, even slightly, brought on another wave of dizziness; stronger than the last one. The black spots reappeared and I felt my consciousness slipping away fast.

"Darcy?" The muttered words sounded faint and nervous and it was only when I realized that the tone matched my feelings that I comprehended that I had been the one to call him.

"I am here, Miss Bennet." The strong arms that held me, presently, shifted and moved until I was in a pair of new ones; ones I knew were Darcy's. He carried me somewhere, no doubt inside Netherfield, but I was not present for that. Once my head hit his chest I was gone.

He hadn't hesitated once he saw how unsteady Miss Bennet had been. It was a case of performing a service for a lady in distress and he fulfilled it. His own personal thoughts and opinions in regards to the lady had no sway in his decision to bring her to Charles's home. She was clearly unwell and miles from her own home, whereas Netherfield lay not a quarter of a mile off. It was the obvious course of action and he would not allow any other reasoning enter his thoughts.

Although (his stubborn mind whispered at him as he carried the inert form of Miss Bennet) there was an intriguing aspect to the young woman that had first caught his notice at the assembly rooms. So much so that it had induced him to ask for her hand in the next dance. He had surprised even himself and clearly she had been taken unawares, though he wondered why that would be.

Nevertheless, he had acted purely from the desire to see Miss Bennet well, as he would for any young lady of his acquaintance.

As he mounted the stairs towards the hall where the bedchambers were stationed he came across a startled Miss Bingley.

"Good heavens! Who is that?" Her narrowed eyes scanned the seemingly lifeless form of Elizabeth with reserve.

"It is Miss Elizabeth. I found her on the lane from Netherfield. She had clearly been walking in the rain and immediately after she fell into a faint. Is there a room in which we may put her?"

Miss Bingley hesitated a second, then turned, talking over her shoulder. "There is one that adjoins the chamber we put her sister in."

"Her sister?"

"Yes." Miss Bingley mildly smirked. "Miss Bennet, too, was caught in the storm and has taken ill. I wonder greatly what possessed Miss Elizabeth to do likewise." She flashed a pointed look at Darcy, but he hadn't noticed. His mind was focused on the chances of a doctor already having been called upon and on his way, or if one had come and gone and was not likely to return till the morrow.

"We have sent for Doctor Martin only ten minutes past." Miss Bingley helpfully stated. "He will be able to examine both sisters."

"Indeed."

The room that was to be occupied by Elizabeth was small but bright. The windows shed a pale light onto the bed across from it and the curtains were soft. Miss Bingley swiftly pulled the covers down allowing Darcy to place Elizabeth withing the warm alcove of the sheets. The unconscious form twitched her nose and curled smoothly into a ball once she was enveloped by the gentle blankets.

Darcy placed the back of his hand against her forehead and frowned at his findings. "She grows warmer."

"She will rest now."

The two moved out of the room with quiet steps; the only noise to mark their exit was the soft click of the door closing.

"Soph, come on."

"No." I shook my head with quick jerks side to side.

"You won't regret it." Dan insisted.

His hands were on either side of my hips, holding me securely to him. But no matter how safe I felt with him behind me there was no way I was going to open my eyes.

"It's not that bad." He tried to encourage. The continuous blowing of the fire into the balloon was all that could really be heard besides those that spoke right in your ear, which is what Dan did just now.

"Not so loud."

"Sorry."

I nodded in acknowledgment to his apology and remained with shut eyes. The hot air balloon ride had been a surprise and one that I had been coerced into doing. If I hadn't been so terrified of toppling out I would have pummeled his chest with my fists. As it was, I kept my composure and was slightly thankful for his presence behind me. A few minutes of silence passed between us until he spoke again.

"Soph, I'm sorry, but you have to look."

I moaned in dread. With a deep breath, I mustered enough courage to peep open one eye, than another until both were spread wide and taking in the view of the sprawling land beneath us. I felt Dan's arms tighten around me, bringing me closer to him.

"I told you."

His face was right next to mine and I looked at him.

"Yes, well, don't get used to being right." I meant to peck his cheek, but he turned his head at that moment and our lips met instead.

My eyes shot open. The heavy sounds of breathing took me a second to realize were coming from my own heaving chest and that sweat was pouring from my armpits, forehead and between my breasts. I began to sit up but a wave of nausea struck me and I had to lurch to the side of the bed where the contents of my stomach were deposited onto the shiny wood floors.

"Sorry." I groaned to the sullied floor. I flopped back onto my back and attempted to calm my breathing, but it was proving useless. The dream, or rather, memory was still lingering and agitating me profusely.

That hot-air balloon ride had been when Dan and I had flown to Arizona for our first year anniversary. He had surprised me with the plane tickets and then surprised me even more when he told me that we were not just going to Arizona but to Las Vegas. That had been before, when everything was still good between us and no obsessive fantasy had gotten in the way.

I sighed and tried to dispel those memories; they would only make me sad now.

All around me were white, cream coloured sheets and blue curtains that had me feeling that I was in some five star hotel, but I hazily remembered where I was. Some room in Netherfield.

I wiped my mouth and fluttered my eyes closed once more. The day was beginning to turn into the evening but I felt too burdened with my own bodily aches to worry what the Bennets at Longbourn must be thinking. No doubt Kitty had told them of my whereabouts, but I'm sure they had expected me long ago.

A hoarse cough erupted out of me, leaving my throat feeling even more raw and sensitive.

"Dear, dear, what do we have here?"

I looked to the opening door and saw an old man coming in with a large bag in his hand. He had a kindly face, but I was inclined to pull the covers a little higher as he was still a stranger to me.

"Walking about in the rain - on foot." He prattled on. He was pulling up a chair beside the bed when he saw my sick on the floor.

"Well, I have one of the symptoms already." He rang the bell that would summon a servant and in the meantime came to sit on the other side of the bed.

"You're a doctor." I assumed.

"I am." He said, placing his bag on the floor beside his feet.

"Do you know how Jane is?" I asked softly. My sore throat made it painful to speak too loudly or for too long.

"I have just come from her bedside and, at first glance, find identical symptoms in this sickbed. Do you have a headache?"

Wishing not to move my head overly much, nor speak, I gave him a thumbs up and hoped he would understand my meaning. He looked at the appendage with confusion, then took my entire hand in his.

"Does your thumb ail you?" He inquired. I couldn't help a smile. He chuckled.

"I see whatever you may be suffering from it is not a lack of humour."

"It means 'yes'." I whispered.

"Ah, I see."

At that moment a servant came in and acquainted herself with the mess I had made. She did so quietly but there was no missing her wrinkled nose or her outstretched arms as she carried the soiled towels and basin away. I wanted to thank her, but I hadn't the energy to say so loud enough for her fast pace to hear me as she walked out the door. Barely had she gone when her presence was replaced by Mr. Darcy. He knocked softly at the door.

"Mr. Darcy, do come in." The doctor motioned for him to enter with a quick urging motion with his hand. Mr. Darcy did so and stood at the foot of the bed, his eyes flicking once or twice to mine.

"How is she, Doctor Martin?" He addressed only the physician.

"I believe her to be inflicted with a cold, same as her sister. The symptoms are accurate, and in her case exposed to their fullest." He motioned in the general direction of where my vomit had just been, apparently supposing that Darcy knew what he was gesturing towards. He turned in his chair, bringing his knees in direct line of my elbow and his face peering down at me.

"Your throat, is it sore?"

My thumb went up and he chuckled.

"What is that?" Darcy asked, confused.

"It is her way of answering without moving or speaking. And, my dear," he said to me once more, "is there a pain here?" He tapped the corners of his eyes. Another thumbs up.

"And you say she fainted twice?" He turned his head to Mr. Darcy who nodded. "Once when I found her and the other when we had arrived here."

"I did?" I croaked. I cleared my throat, but that only made it worse so I refrained from asking any more questions.

"You did, Miss Bennet. Hardly surprising if you are to waltz about the country in a down pour."

I opened my mouth to respond but the hitch in the back of my throat told me better.

"I recommend bed rest, liquids, warmth and I strongly encourage both Miss Bennets to remain here until they have regained their strength."

Mr. Darcy nodded at once and shook the doctor's hand as the latter rose from his chair. His bag had lain untouched and I was grateful. I was not eager to meet with the medieval methods some of the practitioners of medicine were fond of using.

"I will check here in a day or so, by then there should be some progress in your conditions. In the meantime, is there anything of a particular nature that you would like done?" He smiled down at me and I could only respond with a thumbs up. As the sign had given him amusement the first two times, it did so again. "And it would be?" Both he and Mr. Darcy leaned forward to catch my whispered words.

"Family. M-my family."

"Not to worry, Miss Bennet," Doctor Martin announced, "I have it on good authority that a letter has been dispatched forthwith and has no doubt already been received and read by your dear parents."

He and Mr. Darcy then began walking towards the door with the former saying, "the best treatment for you now, my dear, is to return to your slumber. Rest now and later you will be given some sustenance."

The mention of food made my stomach lurch, but I suppressed the nausea and settled into the soft pillows. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Darcy's form pause a moment at the door. I let him look without catching him out and finally smiled when he left.

"Already falling in love with her - I mean me - or - is there a difference?" I wondered. With a headache I did not even try to figure that one out but fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.

I don't know how long I was asleep for but when I opened my eyes the curtains were closed and there was no light slipping through the fabric. There was neither a light in the room and my my eyes had to adjust to the darkness around me. The light colouring of the room, however, made it easy to quickly distinguish the different pieces of furniture and that made me feel easier. I did not move, not even to readjust my position; I felt to do so would cause a fit of coughing, therefore I remained precariously perched on the raised pillows. The lids of my eyes were heavy and the serene atmosphere lulled me back into a long sleep that I didn't wake from until late the next morning.

With that waking, I was met with half open curtains and the light of the day streaming through the large glass windows. I lifted a heavy hand but the movement produced the coughing fit I was dreading.

It was long and deep, racking my entire body and leaving me feeling much weaker. From the force of it, I was pushed into a sitting position. My throat was worse and my nose was congested. The usual happenings of the morning when one has a cold. The loud hacking must have reached past my door because there was a soft knock followed by Mr. Bingley.

"Miss Bennet - Oh! Miss Bennet, let me assist you."

He fluffed my pillows and raised them higher, then took hold of my arm and eased me back whilst the end of my coughing fit sputtered out. I felt my face to be a wet and ugly mess and tried to hide it from him but he had no qualms. I saw him searching his pockets, patting them down with the palm of his hands and inserting his index and middle fingers until he produced a handkerchief.

"Miss Bennet," he offered and I accepted it gratefully, smothering my face and wiping it clean. All manner of my sickness came off onto it and when I finished I looked at him hesitantly.

"I am in no need of it presently." He smiled, his hands extended with his palms facing me. Returning the smile, I tossed the crumpled hanky across the bed and edged it to the corner.

"I have just come from your sister and shall report back to her. She has been tremendously anxious since she was told of your being here."

"I did not intend to give her any discomfiture," I whispered, trying to clear some of the phlegm that had lodged there during the night. "I had been worried, though. I wanted to see her reach Netherfield safely."

"Miss Bennet, you needn't concern yourself. Your devotion to your sister is commendable and quite enviable." He took a seat in the chair left out by the doctor the prior day and scooted it closer to the bed. I scratched my nose, feeling it clear slightly now that I was sitting upright.

"Would your sisters not do the same if you were in similar dangers?" I lightly teased. I was pleased to see that he was open to play.

"My sisters would consider it beneath them to sodden their petticoats in compensation of rescuing their foolhardy brother."

I began to laugh, but it caught in my throat and morphed into a cough.

"Miss Bennet, I am sorry. I should not be amusing you - "

"No, you should. Never mind my cough; I'd have done it at some point or another."

"Alright then," he gave a toothy grin. "Would you like something to eat?" He looked to a tray on the dresser I hadn't noticed before now.

"Oh. No, thank you. I don't think that would be a good idea."

He assented to my request and remained seated.

"Your garments have been laundered and are dry. They will be brought up shortly."

"My garments?" My voice came out as a croak and I had to pause a moment. "I didn't even know that I was out of my garments." I looked down and saw that I wore a night gown.

Mr. Bingley took on a lovely red hue that complimented his light hair. "Oh, ah, yes, well, I believe one of the maids...er...assisted you."

"Do not worry, Mr. Bingley, I had not thought it was you." I almost said and then thought better of it.

He did not stay much longer and I was both glad and disappointed. Alone, it was boring, yet with the company I was required to talk, which did not help my throat. There was nothing to do, nothing to distract from the monotonous silence of the room, and nothing to think about other than being sick. I couldn't even think about Darcy without feeling incredibly cliched for fainting in his arms and appearing as the damsel in distress. I tried to contemplate the subject of love - on whether it would be Elizabeth or myself that he was falling in love with. It was her body and her features, but the personality was all mine, so maybe it would be that he didn't fall in love at all.

I shrugged and reached for Bingley's hanky, as I felt my nose needed swift attention. The fabric was quickly getting soiled and I had no clue as to what I would use, after it was all spent, to blow my nose in. I couldn't very well use the sheets.

The ticking clock in the room ticked on as I began counting the panes in the windows for want of a better diversion.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

I turned my head and was startled to see Mr. Darcy standing in the doorway. One hand on the handle of the door, the other holding a couple of volumes.

"I had knocked but you did not answer; I was not sure if you were asleep. May I?" He looked at the room as a whole as if he were asking the very architecture itself if he may enter its structure.

"Yes, please have a seat." I motioned to the famous chair that was soon filled with a whole lot of handsome. I pulled the sheets higher up and sunk myself deeper in the pillows, not wanting him to see me too clearly. My nose was most likely red and chapped and not at all pleasant to look at. He sat there a moment, idly handling the books back and forth between his hands as he looked at me.

"Uh...I brought you these. I know not if you have an inclination for reading," he said, handing me the books, "but I thought it a better way of passing the time than sitting with nothing to do."

I read the unfamiliar titles, passing my hand across the covers.

"I wasn't sure what you might take an interest in, so I - " he paused a moment when I looked up at him. "I chose what I thought suited what I know of you."

It was a very tempting carrot to take, to tease him in how much he knew of me, but I let it go.

"Thank you." I said. I rested them in my lap and resumed my watch of him. He sat awkwardly, but I was not put off by that. I knew his nature and his shyness and that made him all the more endearing. However, there were limits to how long two people can be in a room together with nothing passing between them other than furtive glances.

"I have not had the opportunity to thank you for...I suppose rescuing me. I had not thought of it in that way, but had you not found me when you had I would have been unconscious in the lane."

"Perhaps that will deter you from such an outing again, I hope."

"Believe, Mr. Darcy, I do not need so strong a consequence to discourage me from walking out in the pouring rain again. I had not wanted to do it in the first place, but I had been apprehensive in Jane's welfare."

He nodded and I wondered if he was thinking of his own sister and to what lengths he had recently gone to, to extricate her from the philandering grasp of Wickham.

"Have you a sister, Mr. Darcy?" I asked innocently. I was still required to whisper and he, therefore, was required to lean closer to hear me.

"Yes," he answered immediately. "Georgiana, she is just turned sixteen."

"A very trying age."

"Indeed." That was all he said on that point of the conversation.

"Will she join you here?" So many other things had altered because of my presence that I couldn't discount the possibility.

"No, she remains in Derbyshire."

I sighed. It was a difficult thing to conduct a conversation with a man who responded with curt answers. A passage of time elapsed between us in which we both looked at anything but the other. I eventually found refuge in the books in my lap and started scanning their pages when Mr. Darcy spoke. His voice was tentative, as if he were not entirely sure he should be asking this.

"My impression of you, Miss Bennet, is a very open countenance, however, there is a point I would have you answer, if you would be so kind."

I nodded for him to continue.

"At the assembly rooms - why is it that you at the first accepted my hand for the dance yet when we walked to the floor you then proceeded to reject me?"

Of all the questions, I hadn't been expecting that. Had that been in his thoughts since that evening two nights back?

"Mr. Darcy," I started, "I am sorry if I caused you any embarrassment, but...may I speak plainly?"

He looked slightly startled at my frankness, but consented. I was about to tell him the truth when I realized it would make no sense if I told him that I didn't know how to dance.

"I was not dancing that night," I substituted. "My mother must not have remembered and answered for me. I truly am sorry if I offended you in any way."

His expression was difficult to read, but I thought I detected a lightening in mien.

"I was sure that it must have been something of that kind, but was unable to keep my curiosity in check. Forgive my impertinence."

"Not at all."

Perhaps," he hesitated, rubbing his hands slowly together. "Whensoever there is another opportunity to dance, may I have the privilege of your hand?"

"Of course, Mr. Darcy. I cannot say no to you who has helped me." I smiled.

He did not return the expression, but stood from the chair and bid me to take part in some of the soup before leaving me to myself.

Once he was gone I resumed my gaze of the clear window, though I was not counting the panes, but rather thinking of how on earth I was going to dance with Darcy.

"Bugger."


	5. Tuned Masks and Imaginative Eyes

A couple of days went by, though I was hardly aware of them passing. The most sense I had was when I was being fed spoonfuls of soup and was forced to make my throat work. Doctor Martin had come one other time (to my knowledge) and assessed that my condition was not improving. His kindly face was turned somewhat sour at the news he was required to deliver; a frown did not suit him.

To me, it was all the same. I felt horrible no matter what exactly my illness was morphing into. If I die - I wondered throughout my hours of tortures leisure - will I pop back into my own body, in my own time? Or will this have been it and I die without ever seeing my mum again, or Jules, or Jax? Or even Dan, whispered a very small voice in the very recesses of my mind. Those musings had disturbed me to a point that they followed me to my slumber where they were given free reign to torment and subject my subconscious to nightmares. I woke my self with my crying, or rather, my attempts at crying. The soreness that persisted in my throat did not allow any sobs to pass without the emotion coming out as a braying sound, almost reminiscent of a donkey. The noise had attracted a maid (Lord knows what she was doing up at that hour. Perhaps a late night visit to the groom or one of the footmen?) and I was swiftly attended to and soothed. In my state of grogginess I was unable to make out the face of who it was that pressed a cool compress to my brow, but I was thankful nevertheless. After that, I decided to not dwell on questions with possibly morbid answers and to refrain from dying. I thought it a good plan.

Once or twice I was aware of the sister snobs coming into visit me. They sat on either side of me, on the very edge of the mattress, and both imitated the gesture of the other by loosely grasping my hands with a handkerchief as barrier between the skin. If only they knew that they were in danger just from breathing the same air as I. That did make me smile.

"Miss Eliza, are you feeling any better?" The faux concern oozing from Miss Bingley was enough to make me want to sneeze openly without covering my mouth. As I found myself doing more and more, I refrained and tried at a small smile instead.

"I believe a little better, thank you." My words were almost immediately contradicted by a burst of coughing that overtook my whole body. The sister snobs relinquished my hands with a jerk and jumped to their feet, covering their own mouths and noses with their slender and polished fingers. The image, strangely put me in mind of how doctors and nurses from my time wore the round masks on the lower terrain of their face when doing surgery or dealing with infectious cases. Very odd nurses I had by my bedside, indeed.

"Louisa, fetch my smelling salts. She looks as if she's about to faint."

"No," I coughed. "I am well." I coughed again. And then again. My nurses were not looking convinced. "Oh please don't get the smelling salts." I managed to say before relapsing into another fit of coughing.

"What's all this?" A masculine voice joined the show of the spectacle that was me as I flailed about trying my best to calm my lungs as well as my throat.

"Charles, what do you do here?" One of the sister snobs inquired. They had so far listened to my request of no smelling salts, but they were yet to come up with an alternative to stop my coughing. I could imagine it was as pleasant on their ears as it was on my entire self, but still they talked!

"I come from Miss Bennet and thought I would offer the same company to her sister."

"Oh yes, dear Jane is looking tremendously better," here a glance was thrown in my direction from the disdainful gaze of Miss Bingley as I now attempted to subdue my wretched body with a pillow to my mouth. "And it only being two days. She possesses not only superior features but a robust constitution."

"Indeed, she does." Mrs. Hurst echoed.

"Yes, the colour in her cheeks are returned and her eyes no longer are fanned by a glazed look." I didn't have to see to know that Mr. Bingley was smiling, I only wished he would have been in love at any other moment. I was beginning to feel lightheaded and the siblings' chatter was becoming nothing more than background noise at the other end of a very confusing tunnel when I was snapped into a modicum of reality by the sharp step of yet another person entering my sick room.

"Charles, bring the basin." The strong voice ordered as a broad hand gently pushed back my hair that was sticking to my temples. The chatter stopped abruptly, not even the sister snobs had anything to say as they watched Fitzwilliam Darcy tend to their hacking guest as any gentleman would do. Mr. Bingley appeared at his friend's elbow, basin in hand, within the second of his being given the task.

"Hold it." Mr. Darcy instructed. He kept one hand on my still shuddering shoulder as he used his other to dip a cloth into the water. "Miss Bennet, if you'll allow me?"

I couldn't say yes or even move my head in an affirmative nod. Any slight movement and I knew it would set off my predictable coughing yet again. I caught his eye and implored him to understand the meaning behind my own windows. He did, and set to padding down my face with the welcoming moisture.

The silence that followed was even more pronounced than the first; shock was the main cause for the sister snobs to be at a loss for words and I thanked that inability most profoundly.

Between my inclination to lean back and Mr. Darcy's careful maneuvering, I found myself returned to my former attitude of lying down, and for the moment, blessed by functioning lungs. The cloth was taken from my face and deposited into the basin with one fluid movement. The sister snobs began to make some noise again, but only in the vain of breathing; they had not quite recovered their tongues.

"Are you better, Miss Bennet?" Mr. Darcy asked, rubbing his hands dry. I smiled by way of answer and was shocked to see a slight upturning of the corner of his very own lips. It was gone instantly, but it had most certainly been there. "Then I think we will leave you to rest." He motioned for the others to follow his lead with an extended arm aligning with the door to the hall. The sister snobs exited first, then Mr. Bingley who had first to put down the basin and give me a quick, apologetic smile, and then Mr. Darcy was the last to go with one parting nod and glance about the room before the door shut quietly behind him.

"I apologize, Darcy," I heard Mr. Bingley say from the other side of the door; "I had not been completely myself when I entered Miss Elizabeth's room. I had been - "

"Distracted?" Mr. Darcy offered. I had to assume that Mr. Bingley nodded as there was no vocal answer and the next to speak was Mr. Darcy again. "By the other Miss Bennet in that room there."

"Pre-cis-ely." Mr. Bingley enunciated. They began to walk, so the last I heard was the slightly remonstrative tone of Mr. Darcy as he said, "only try not to be too distracted with one that you fail to tend to the other." The response he received was a sheepish laugh and if I could I would have joined in the merriment. As it was, I was able to smile to myself before slipping off into the fifth sleep of just that morning.

The sister snobs, as Sophie had begun to characterize Mr. Bingley's sisters, were the first to make their displeasure known of having their home used as hospital for the locals. Their brother told them that they exaggerated and that it was only two and from the same family and sisters on top of all that.

"Yes, dear Charles," Miss Bingley cooed with flat lips, "but we had invited only the one. The other was quite unintentional, I can assure you. In fact, if Mr. Darcy had not met Miss Eliza on the road she would not be here." The ungracious hostess tittered.

"No, indeed, she would not be here, rather more likely an actual hospital and in much worse conditions than we presently find her in." Mr. Darcy murmured quietly, though all in the room heard him, save of course for Mr. Hurst who contributed to the conversation with his heavy snoring.

"Quite." Miss Bingley responded with an uncertain expression adorning her features.

"I cannot wish Miss Bennet away," Mr. Bingley put in, buttressing his friend's argument of the two women being in no better place than their current locations. "And I am sure you all agree in some form or another."

"For dear Jane, anything and everything," Miss Bingley proclaimed with all the art of saying it all without meaning a jot of it. "For her sister, whom we hadn't even invited; it is another matter entirely."

"She shows concern for her sister which is most admirable." Mr. Bingley defended for the good ladies behalf.

"An admiration that breaches all propriety." Mrs. Hurst rallied to her sister's side.

"It is a shame that Jane has connections so low and undignified, but that is the way of the world." Miss Bingley tossed her hand in an appropriately exhausted manner that suggested she had tried to conquer 'the way of the world' for the better but had failed miserably and was now only content to discuss it as a lost cause.

"The way of the world, as you call it, is nothing that cannot be outmaneuvered by kindness shown to those in need of help." Her brother rebutted with a force that hinted at his having notions leading in the direction of conquering 'the way of the world' but succeeding where his dear sister had failed.

"Only do not let that kindness lead all the way to your pocket-book." Miss Bingley hissed in warning. She was growing tired of this conversation.

"My pocket-book! Good heavens! How did that enter into the general discussion of kindness. I was alluding to tending to our neighbors in their time of need." Mr. Bingley exclaimed with a youthful flush to his face.

"Our neighbors' time of need may be always and forever if you are to pity them and open yourself to hand-outs."

"You mistake the situation, Caroline."

"I mistake nothing, Charles. The Bennets are not so poor to be without a carriage, yet Miss Bennet comes on horseback during a violent rain shower." She held up a hand to stop her brother from interrupting. "I grant you that she is hardly to blame. Her temperament is too sweet and gentle to argue with the voracious mother she has to appease, but as for her sister, there is a quickness behind those eyes that I took immediate distrust to. She does worse than Jane for she comes unbidden and on foot in the very same rain shower her sister had just passed through."

"Your assessment is accurate in all areas except one," the interruption came from not her brother but from the reclining gentleman Miss Bingley had particular avarice for. "Miss Elizabeth did not intend to come to Netherfield; she meant only to assure herself that her sister reached the house safely - no doubt recognizing the same voracious tendencies from her mother as you have just described - but when I had found her, she was returning to Longbourn."

Miss Bingley found no satisfaction in his statement, therefore, she reverted to her former point of pocket-books, voracious mothers, and hospitals in a jumbled manner that forced her to soon quit speaking altogether. Mr. Bingley could guess what she was hinting at, but would make no more of it. Nothing his sisters could say would cast doubt upon the angel image of Miss Bennet, however, he thought it best not to test it.

Mr. Darcy, after having voiced his remarks, remained silent, listening with one ear whilst attending to his own musings with his stoic mien in place. His crossed legs jittered from time to time but that was just his impatience of being seated for too long. He'd then stand and carry himself to the window where he would stare out the delicate barrier, still with the upright and rigid form of one whose in complete and utter surety of oneself. But there! - a shoulder sagged an infinitesimal fraction, but then it bounded back to its proper station of perpendicular alignment with his neck.

The eyes, Miss Bingley had so acutely drawn forth, were there now; staring back at him in the reflection of the glass. They were somewhat subdued in their natural lustre, having only the aid of a stifled imagination to bring them into being, but they were hers and he could not seem to blink them out of existence.

"Darcy, you alright?" Mr. Bingley called a little louder than his sister had. Mr. Darcy turned in equal measures of having the appearnece of meaning to ignore the first call of his name and respond only to the second beckoning.

"Fine. Why ever do you ask?"

"You did not answer my question, sir." Miss Bingley said.

"And that would be?"

"Do you not find it peculiar," here her beady eyes narrowed and contrasted greatly with the still present image of the round orbs Mr. Darcy had in mind; "that Miss Eliza was so fortunate as to come across your path when hurrying home."

Mr. Darcy sighed as he retraced his steps back to his chair. "Are we still entertaining this subject?"

As his only answer were two pairs of intent stares he preceded to answer the question. "Yes, it was fortunate that Miss Bennet and I crossed paths, but I can assure you it was not by design." He persisted calmly.

"Mr. Darcy, you are too good, but you shall not fool me. How could it be otherwise. Therefore, I give you this friendly warning to be on your guard when matters concern the second eldest of the Bennet daughters. I have heard her mentioned as a local beauty, though I find no base for such claims myself, however it is said and such words can work their way into the vanity of a young girl on the threshold of womanhood. She may think herself able to capture the attentions of certain persons who were not originally in view of her horizons. I should loath to see any gentleman of repute beguiled by seemingly sincere acts of helplessness."

"Then I advise a limited society for yourself as young gentleman, as much as any young lady, are almost always involved in the hunt." Mr. Darcy replied evenly, though not rudely. His terseness was effective in ending the discussion for which he was grateful. The emotion did not remain with him long as it was announced, just a few minutes after the conclusion of their talk, that Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet, and Miss Bennet were come to see their daughters and sisters.

A great hullabaloo followed and it was uncertain if the voracious mother and her young were to be shown to the attending healthy or to the attending sick; it was decided upon the latter. This gave ample opportunity for the sister snobs to tune their masks to the fitted reception of Mrs. Bennet and her young when that party finally descended the grand stair and entered the front parlour.

"Mrs. Be-"

"Oh, Mr. Bingley! It is too good of you, sir. Too good. I cannot help but wonder at our good fortune of having you as a near neighbor - not above three miles - and with such Christian values as yourself in aiding my poor girls. It is too good." The iron maiden of the time, after having burst through the doors in reminiscent fashion of a charger, with her daughters all in a huff of air behind her scurrying along, came to stand in the precise middle of the room where she orated to the surrounding panels, panes of glass window, door handles, etc. of her gratitude. The ears of the room were not to be listed among the artifacts that suffered from such exclamations, for the ears had some sense and had ceased with the listening of such tedious tittle-tattle almost before the iron maiden had bounded through the doors.

Mr. Darcy excused himself from the pretense of having to contort his face into a manner of false listening and moved once more to the window where the fields of Netherfield held an infinitely greater interest.

The sister snobs, their masks tuned correctly, had the pleasurable free reign of thinking on whatever they chose whilst knowing the precise moment an alteration of expression was required in keeping pace with Mrs. Bennet's flow of words. Their brother was not so gifted in presenting a face unnatural to his true tendencies, nor was he equipped in keeping up with the Mrs. Bennet's scattered subjects and half fluttered words, therefore, he maintained a rather dubious countenance throughout the whole of the interview. Mr. Hurst was undisturbed in his sleep.

"And I shudder to think what would have befallen my poor dear if you had not brought her in. I can assure you it was as clear as any spring morning when she set off on Nellie, alas the clouds set in and it was too late to have summoned her back for she had been gone above a quarter of an hour." Between a hastily drawn breath, Mrs. Bennet had to catch her tongue before it flew of on another whirlwind of apologetic nonsense that was as sincere as the sister snobs' tuned masks, for Mr. Darcy chose that moment to interject his thoughts.

"I think, madam, that your second eldest did not agree with the sentiment you have just now thoroughly explained." He turned only slightly from his position at the window to look at the iron maiden who stiffened subtly as her narrowed eyes and calculating ears detected the calmest of challenges laid at her door. He continued.

"It was lucky, indeed, that I left early from the officer's dinner and happened upon her on the road." Mr. Darcy was not in the practice of tuning his mask, as the sister snobs were want to do, but that is not to say he did not, on occasion, produce a cover that allowed him to partake in conversations he would ordinarily have refrained from becoming apart of. Behind the orbs that were now fixed on Mrs. Bennet, waiting for her answer, resided the imaginative eyes of Miss Bennet who would not leave him even now as the creator of those eyes stood before him. It was a distraction, nothing more and nothing less. He had been attracted to those eyes almost immediately; further still when he had seen them brought to life by the exertion of the wearer in the pouring rain; the black lashes tipping them into clearer brilliance. Even when they were brought low and glazed, he found himself flexible in roaming the other features presented on the face and found equal interest in the red lips that had weakly smiled up at him in thanks.

The stark contrast standing some feet away from him only enhanced the imaginative eyes further, leaving a part of his mind to think that the distraction was weighing heavier in the 'nothing less' category than the 'nothing more' category.

"A very lucky chance, indeed, sir." Mrs. Bennet rejoined with as high a pitched voice as could be managed and with all the womanly graces bestowed to her on her birth. "To think of our poor Lizzy," our poor for Lizzy, and my dear for Jane; "off on her own, and with no aid for miles and miles until your good self chose to appear and bring her to Netherfield. I know Mr. Bennet shares my hearty thanks for you seeing right by our daughter, and I do, I do thank you most graciously, sir."

Mr. Darcy nodded once, then returned his gaze to the window.

By this time Mr. Bingley had adequately accustomed himself to the patterns of Mrs. Bennet's speech and imitated his friend by stopping her as she went to draw breath.

"Mrs. Bennet, I hope you do not find either of your daughters worse than you expected."

Here the voracious mother turned her countenance into grave disparity. "Indeed I do, sir. Miss Bennet is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, for she has the sweetest temper, Mr. Bingley. But she is a great deal too ill to be moved...as is her sister. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."

"But of course!" Mr. Bingley was prompt to answer.

"Miss Bennet and Miss Eliza will receive every possible attention, ma'am, I assure you." Miss Bingley opened her tuned mask to say, stretching the disguise almost completely off.

"You are very good." Mrs. Bennet curtsied with a bob of her curled head. And then, with the suddenness of casting off her maternal duties, Mrs. Bennet's countenance flipped yet again as she appraised the room surrounding her as if she had first bid in an auction house; which, in her mind, she did. "Well, you have a sweet room here! I think you will never want to leave Netherfield now you are come here." She strode the length of the room, her narrowed eyes widening at the intake of wealth.

"I believe I should be happy to live in the country forever. Wouldn't you, Darcy?" Mr. Bingley posed to his friend.

"You would?" He questioned, almost surprised, as he turned from the window and stepped next to Mr. Bingley. "You don't find the society somewhat confined and unvarying for your tastes?"

"Confined? And unvarying? Indeed it is not, sir!" The iron maiden shot across the room, her pitch becoming impossibly higher. Her temper was not to be contained when she felt herself insulted; even should it be from the man who saved Elizabeth. "The country is a vast deal pleasanter than town, whatever you may say about it!"

The soft cover Mr. Darcy had used prior fell away with the slight upturned motion of his eyes as he returned to the magnetic window.

"Do pardon me," Mr. Bingley interposed, "but may be you mistake Darcy's meaning."

"Do I?" She asked of him, though with enough mind to lower her voice when speaking to her portended son-in-law. "He seems to think the country nothing at all! Confined, unvarying!" She uttered with a spastic shake of her present handkerchief, gripped in her hand. "I would have him know we dine with four-and-twenty families!" She finished smugly. However, the tuned masks of the sister snobs were not tuned enough to ignore that last outburst without showing some true feeling. They began giggling and snorting in a constrained manner that only added more awkwardness to the room. Mr. Bingley's dubious expression was joined by another - that of embarrassment.

"Sir William being among them," Mrs. Bennet continued, exchanging quantity for quality. "What an agreeable man he is! That is my idea of good breeding. And those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter." She at last ended with a flowing of skirts as she seated herself in a vacant chair.

The three Bennet girls who so far remained silent and watchful, now took the opportunity presented and Lydia asked, "Mr. Bingley, did you not promise to give a ball at Netherfield as soon as you were settled here?" Said gentleman stepped forward smiling, glad of the diverting topic.

"It will be a great scandal if you don't keep your word."

"I am perfectly ready to keep my engagement. And when your sister is recovered, you shall name the day of the ball, if you please."

"Oh! There, now, Lydia!" The voracious mother exclaimed from her perch. "That's a fair promise for you! That's generosity for you!" And after a meandering glance at Mr. Darcy's back, "That's what I call gentlemanly behaviour!"

The racket of my mama entering my room was enough to wake the dead. There was no gentleness to her touch, nor an affectionate caress to my brow. There was none of the pleasantries passed between mother and daughter when the latter is sick because in this instance the latter had done something incredibly vexing as to cause slight to the former.

"And what were you thinking, child! Coming here after your sister? You've no business here, certainly not after you offended Mr. Darcy by refusing his offer to dance. I still cannot forgive you on that score either." Mrs. Bennet paced from one end of my room to the other with all the qualities of a caged animal. Lydia, Kitty, and Mary secured themselves to a corner and dare not cross the laid path of their mother.

"Do you not see that by your being here you take attention away from Jane. Mr. Bingley, gentle soul that he is, will feel obligated to cut his time with Jane in half so that you may share his company also. It is all greatly vexing. And you the cause. You and your father have no compassion for my poor nerves."

Had I the strength, I quite believed I would have yelled at her, but I was not in possession of any of my stamina so I simply lay there with my eyes cracked open, waiting for her tirade to come to an end.

I saw that the three girls were desirous of coming to me and I was inclined to have them near me as well, but it would have taken more courage than they had combined to cross Mrs. Bennet's path.

"To think of dear Jane suffering because of your careless actions." She sniffed. "Well, I see that you yourself are not well, but you will recover well enough from the competent watch of your hosts."

I counted how many times she said 'well' in her sentence.

"We have come from Jane and after departing from you we will meet with Mr. Bingley to thank him of his kindness."

I could tell she was winding down and had only to wait a few more minutes before they left me and I would be to myself again. Lydia, Kitty, and Mary all gave me quick smiles before filing out after their mother and I was amused, though not completely surprised when Mrs. Bennet's high voice carried the distance of stairs and corridors, from wherever she was, to my room. I was not able to catch every word, but there was definitely a few that I recognized. Confined and unvarying being among them.

They did not remain much longer, the crunch of their carriage rolling over the fine gravel sounded just below my window and Mrs. Bennet's chatter easily reached me once again in my confinement.

I had already counted all the panes of glass in the window; I had counted all the panels on the walls; I had counted a hundred times over how many patterned bells resided on the wall-paper; and for the life of me I was tired of counting. I wanted out of this room. I wanted to be done with being sick. I wanted to cuddle with Jax...though on second thought he would most likely try to sit on my neck which would do me no favours.

Another thing I had done a hundred times over was wonder what Mr. Darcy was doing right now.


	6. Peculiar Discoveries

Very quietly, I unlatched the door handle and peeked into the room that lay behind it. There was a display of fine furniture arranged in a shape close to a circle - a family room, perhaps. The curtains were still drawn closed allowing only scattered beams to filter into the room; chinks of light passed over the furniture, pointing them out and illuminating small patches on the chairs and poufs. Though the room was dimly lit, it still invited cheeriness with the beautiful craftsmanship done on the creamy white walls. Carvings of cherubs ornamented the mantle of the fireplace as well as appearing throughout the room, though elegantly done.

I cast a glance over my shoulder and was assured of no one being behind me before I quietly slipped into the room. It had been two days since Mrs. Bennet and the girls had come to visit and since then Jane and I had steadily returned to our normal selves. My throat didn't scratch as much and I was doing much less coughing, only my head remained slightly thick with dizzy spells and minor headaches. Jane was even better than I and had been permitted to dine with the family last night. She had stopped in my room first to thank me for my concern and then to gently remonstrate me for having done anything so foolish as following her on foot during a down pour.

She smiled as she talked, but I saw the sisterly worry in her eyes as she beheld my sniffling state. I told her that it looked much worse than it was and that I'd be in much better health by the morrow.

My words proved true as I wondered the rooms of Netherfield as any burglar might, though with completely different motives for sneaking. I didn't want to be sent back to my room if I was found out of bed. That, to me, seemed a punishment worse than being put on bread and water for a month. The mattress had molded to my body, the sheets lay too thick across my heated skin, and there was absolutely nothing, not a bloody thing to do to make the time pass faster. I had run out of things to count. I had even finished the books Mr. Darcy had lent me. Hardly any one came to chat with me and when they did I wanted them gone since I couldn't talk properly with a stuffed nose and closed throat.

Therefore, I snuck, and aimed to be quieter than a mouse.

"Achoo!"

I clamped my hand over my mouth and shut my eyes. The sneeze was the type that comes from no where yet releases itself with an explosive, and semi painful, snort. I heard footsteps outside the door pause and I quickly scurried behind a chair and grabbed hold of my shawl that was slipping off my shoulder. Gathering the material into my lap as I crouched, I made sure none of it draped or peeped out from the side of the chair I hid behind.

The door opened and I heard the gait of a man enter the space. If it was Mr. Hurst, he would hardly inspect more than what was worth his time. If it be Mr. Bingley, he'd most likely poke around a bit until he either found me out or decided the noise had come from some other room. If, however, it was Mr. Darcy that entered the room, than I was lost and stripped of my freedom to roam.

The chair I was sheltered behind was, fortunately, one nearly in the corner and with the drapes still closed my skirts would no be distinguishable on the underside of the chair. I heard the steps walk this way and that; presumably checking behind the furniture. That ruled out Mr. Hurst. So Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy.

'Please be Mr. Bingley.'

I mentally prayed. The footsteps grew closer then suddenly stopped. I held my breath and kept myself absolutely frozen. A strange flashback suddenly came to me of when I was a little girl and used to love hiding from my mum. I loved the exhilarating feeling of finding that perfect hiding place that was so close to where the person looked though they passed over you. That feeling struck me now with such a force that homesickness rumbled throughout me and I had the strongest desire to see my mum again.

The footsteps brought me back to the present as they walked over to the windows and began opening the curtains.

'There goes my perfect hiding place.'

Light stretched across the room, filling the space with warmth and a glow that I couldn't be completely opposed to. Clutching the hem of my shawl around myself I still held out for the off chance of Mr. Darcy not discovering me. There was no doubt in my mind of who it was that was posing as inspector Clouseau; the other two gentleman would not have stayed this long to uncover who the mysterious sneeze belonged to.

"Miss Bennet, I can see you." His voice rang out like the striking of a bell. I leaned my forehead against the decorative upholstery that framed the back of the chair and groaned at the looming prospect of the room that I would be sent back to.

Tentatively, I gripped the top of the chair with my fingers and rose to my full height - or rather, Elizabeth's, though it was starting to become one in the same. He stood there with a straight brow and closed lips, though I was unable to ignore the humour of the situation. A chuckle burst from my mouth which then turned into a small laugh.

"You have found me out, Mr. Darcy."

As much as his features were marble there was a twinkle in his eye that proved he was not utterly immune to finding amusement in laughable circumstances.

"So I have, Miss Bennet. Was there something of particular interest that drew you to such intimate confines with the chair?" He mocked in the most serious of ways.

"Of course," I answered immediately, still standing in my little corner, "I was hiding from you."

"Me?"

"Well, not you specifically, but whoever it was that came into the room. I only knew it was you when the curtains opened."

"And how, pray tell, did that action make you any the wiser?" He asked as he held out a hand for me to take. I hesitated a second before accepting it. I wasn't sure if he was going to lead me straight to my prison. He did not; instead he brought me to a chair that was positioned more central to the room. He seated himself across from me.

"It was a matter of elimination," I proceeded to explain my reasoning, taking care to word it delicately in regards to the lazy Mr. Hurst. I did not know if Mr. Darcy would take offence at any rude words in association with his friend's sister's husband.

"And as for yourself, I knew nothing but the most thorough inspection would satisfy your curiosity."

I finished speaking and let the silence fill the space. I expected him to respond but he only stared at me for a moment longer.

"A quick study of people, Miss Bennet." He said at last. "Very quick indeed, for you have barely been in Mr. Hurst's company for more than the first night of our general acquaintance at the assembly rooms.

"He was sleeping there wasn't he?" I quickly interrupted. Concern that I had revealed too much of my knowledge plagued me momentarily, although it was alleviated in the next instant when Mr. Darcy smiled. Not a large one by any means, but a very discernibly small one.

"Yes," he acquiesced, "I presume that adds greatly to first impressions."

"I'm afraid it does." I said, returning his smile with one of my own. Our gazes locked for an instant as the merry expressions danced about our lips.

"You still have not told me why it was you were hiding like a scolded school girl." He abruptly asked, taking his eyes from mine and picking at something invisible on his knee.

"You haven't asked me."

"Haven't I?" He looked back up to see the shaking of my head.

"Well, I ask you now."

"As I shall answer you...now." I emphasized. I saw the spark of impatience flit in his eyes and tried not to smile again.

"I was hiding because I did not want to be taken back to my room. I have run out of things to do to keep my mind occupied and wandering about the house seemed harmless enough."

"I suppose I should be glad that your restlessness did not take you outside." Mr. Darcy commented. I grinned.

"Believe me, I was sorely tempted."

He gave me a stern look which I was incapable of taking seriously.

"You are fond of smiling, Miss Bennet." He remarked with a decidedly contrasting expression on his own face.

"Only because it works less muscles than having to frown."

"Is that proven?"

"Yes." I smiled.

He huffed out a slight sigh and turned his head away, gazing absently at the walls of the room as I slyly studied him. Apart from our first meeting at the ball I hadn't had all that much opportunity of shamelessly staring at the hero of my favorite book. He wasn't all that completely real to me yet; my whole life he had been a fictional character that was responsible for waking the hearts of millions of women into deciding that they would wait for their Mr. Darcy. Now the original version sat stoically before me for my eyes' content.

His features were to the time, not modern, yet not pasty like some of the portraits made people of the early 1800's out to be. There was a manliness to him that surprised me a bit. I knew he was always masculine, but the writing of Jane Austen always left me with a very feminine sense of things. Sitting across from the hero, however, I saw that there was barely anything feminine about him.

Currently his brow was furrowed and I had to assume that he was about to ask me something he was unsure about.

"Miss Bennet...do you know a Miss Devon?"

I started.

"Miss Devon?" There was no smile on my face now.

He met my eyes once more and nodded.

"Y-yes," I decided to say. "I am known to a Miss Devon. Why do you ask?"

"When I found you on the lane you had said that you were Miss Devon to me. I hadn't understood what you meant, though at the time I thought it nothing more than you hallucinating; you were on the verge of fainting."

"I do know a Miss Devon. She's a close friend of mine. Though, I don't know why I told her name to you, nor as mine."

"Does she happen to be a Devon of Devonshire?"

"Uh - no," I smirked, "she's not."

"Oh." His brows relaxed some. "I only ask, for I, too, have a friend by the name of Devon who belongs to that family."

"Indeed? Happy chance."

"He will be joining me at Pemberly next year." He informed me. I snapped my eyes up to his.

"He will?"

"Yes, and I meant to bring tidings of yourself to him should he have been a mutual friend."

"Thank you for the thought, but no trouble need be taken." I stood and was immediately shocked to see the lithe movement of Mr. Darcy standing for the sole reason that I was. I took a step back, feeling the back of my knees touching the seat of the chair.

"Are you wishing to return to your quarters?"

A flash of annoyance passed my features which I think he detected, however much I tried to hide it.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You are a guest, Miss Bennet, not a prisoner. I do, however, encourage you not to overtax yourself."

"If I were to just remain here," I proposed, "would you mind?"

"Not at all." He said with frank earnestness as he walked over to a ready desk and produced paper, ink and a quill. He took a seat and set to writing. There was nothing but the scratching of the nib on paper to fill the silence. I stood awkwardly by my chair, unsure of what he was doing. I cleared my throat.

"Is this some abrupt way of changing the subject?" I wondered.

"I am writing to my sister, Georgiana. I believe I mentioned her to you." He said without turning around.

"Yes, you did." I fell silent and cast my eyes about the place for something to do, but this room was proving to be as boring as the one I was trying to escape from. Idly, I shuffled my feet towards the window and looked outside. Trees dotted the ground, giving shade to patches of the very green grass that spread over the expanse of the land. The soil looked dry and incredibly inviting for the purpose of basking in and I longed to run down the stairs and escape into the grounds.

"Have you - " I stopped myself short, cringing a bit when I heard the scratching stop.

"Yes?"

I turned and saw that he was facing me, quill in hand. Shrugging my shawl higher onto my shoulders, I hedged for the string of words I had tossed away as being too stupid to ask. Taking a breath, I spoke, "have you...ever had the desire to just step out your front door and keep walking; with no idea of where you're going or what you might find, but to just walk and discover whatever you come across?" He was staring speculatively at me, making me feel very self conscious, therefore, I bunched up the fabric of the shawl into my hands.

"I believe you refer to life." He said simply.

"I suppose I do." I said quietly almost morosely.

"Do you not find my answer satisfying?"

"No, I can't say that I do." I replied honestly with a small smile. "You answered me figuratively, but I was thinking physically. Though, I suppose you would never have notions of just up and leaving, what with all the doubtless responsibilities you must have." I returned my gaze to the window before he could answer me but I was certain of him still looking at me since the scratching of the quill was yet to resume.

Taking another breath, I broached another topic that I knew he could not answer but one that I felt unsure of asking anyone else. "What if you found yourself in circumstances completely altered; that you feel that you are almost playing a part and are only witnessing life pass before you without fully participating? What answer would you give then?" In the window's reflection I saw him set his quill down as he brought his full attention to myself.

"I would say that life is too precious to be lived as nothing more than a play. Circumstances are, I grant you, varied for each person, though they should be lived to their fullest and not treated as wasted time passing."

I craned my neck to look at him. "I like your second answer better. Thank you."

He bowed his head, although he did not return to his letter. "Is there anything amiss, Miss Bennet?"

I turned fully to him and approached the chair I had previously occupied. "There is something that I wonder at but it is nothing so alarming that you need be troubled by."

"If you're sure, madam."

I smiled my appreciation and he turned back to his letter.

The day finally came when the health of both Jane and I was strong enough for us to go home. It was almost strange to enter the provided carriage with her after having seen so little of her. The sister snobs were there to bid us farewell, and in their case, most heartily. Mr. Hurst apparently could not be prevailed upon to show such kindness, but all in all he was not missed. Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy were very well accustomed to their duties as friend of host and host. They each spoke a little to us and wished us fare health with Mr. Bingley jokingly telling Jane and I that should we fall sick again we knew of the most comfortable hospitable in the county. We could not disagree.

"Until next we meet, Mr. Darcy." I curtsied.

"Until next we meet, Miss Elizabeth." He repeated. I rose my brows a hitch in surprise at the use of her (my) first name. He took my hand and led me to the carriage. Jane was ushered in a second after and had a moments more of conversation with Mr. Bingley before the horses started off down the lane and we were borne away from Netherfield Hall.

"I don't think I've ever been so bored in my life." I at last burst, causing Jane to look at me with a curious expression.

"Were you not bored?" I asked of her quite seriously.

"I was too ill to think of being bored."

"But weren't you longing to just throw your sheets off and run about until you were exhausted?"

"I already was exhausted." She countered delicately.

"But weren't you tired of being sick exhausted instead of being exhausted from a good run or something like that?" I tried again.

"I can't say that I was, Lizzy."

I gave up on trying to compare our experiences as we clearly were not of the same temperament. Instead I decided to continue my ponderings on who on earth this Devon was. Two Devons, before unmentioned, in the story of Pride & Prejudice. Who was he? And why was he coming into the story when there's never been any basis of him? The questions that have built since my arrival were mounting heavily as I knew there was none to answer them.

The carriage approached Longbourn and a sudden apprehension took hold of me.

'Mr. Collins.'

I had almost forgotten about him. His preening and simpering were not something I was looking forward to. Maybe there was a way to make clear from the very beginning that there was no hope for him.

"Jane! Lizzy!" Mrs. Bennet's cry startled me out of my dread as the iron maiden came barreling out of the house and towards the carriage. Jane opened the door and stepped out where she was promptly peppered with kisses. I was met with similar enthusiasm.

"Oh, girls, girls! It is so good to have you back home! You must tell me of every encounter you had with Mr. Bingley, Jane. And Lizzy, I am glad to see you better." She had hold of both of our hands and half pulled, half dragged us into the house.

Unsure of what was the proper etiquette to dismiss the coachman, I hastily turned and thanked him for his service. He gave me a startled smile and knuckled the brim of his hat before departing.

"Now Jane," Mrs. Bennet went on, pestering every last word and glance between the two lovers from her eldest daughter that eventually there was nothing more to say on the matter. Mrs. Bennet, however, delighted in going over Jane's words until she had memorized every memory in order of how it happened.

"You will be married by the end of the year!" She exclaimed, happily waving her handkerchief. She had released our arms as we entered the parlour and reclined in the familial chairs, though the Mrs. Bennet was perched on the very edge of hers in giddy excitement.

"Oh! Just think of it Jane - Mrs. Charles Bingley. Ooh! How well it sounds!"

"Mama." Jane implored quietly. I saw her cheeks reddening and could feel her discomfort from where I sat. Some distracting wouldn't go amiss.

"I apologized to Mr. Darcy, mama." I said sharply to make sure she heard me. She did, and an almost sour look took root in her countenance.

"Oh, indeed. For my part, I saw no reason for you to apologize to him. He would not have been a fine partner; his mien suggested gangliness if he were to flit about the room in dance." She sniffed.

"Nevertheless I did," I said, trying not to betray my amusement at her clear disdain; "and he has prematurely asked for my hand for when we should next meet at a ball."

Despite her new found dislike in the man, dear mama couldn't resist perking up a bit at the sound of her second eldest being singled out yet again and in advance by a man worth £10,000 a year.

"Oh, indeed." She said again with a much different tone. "Well, and have you accepted."

I inwardly cringed at the stressful prospect of having to go through a crash course of early 19th century dancing. "Yes, I did." I answered, almost grimacing.

"You could look more pleased about it, Lizzy." Mrs. Bennet scolded.

"I am pleased." I said quickly. "Besides, you were the one who got in an argument with him."

Mrs. Bennet gaped slightly. "I would never reduce myself to such standards as falling into a row with a gentleman of fine stock."

"Mother, I heard you." I said simply. "Confined and unvarying were your very words."

"No, indeed, they were not. They were his."

I rose my brows in a 'told you so' fashion.

"It was not a row, but a genteel dispute of minds."

"Is that what it was?"

"Lizzy." Jane quietly warned. I heeded her and let dear mama have the last word on the matter. It was just as well, for a moment later Lydia and Kitty burst into the room with exclamations that reached the pigeons in the bell towers of the church a quarter of a mile away.

"Girls! Have some compassion on my poor nerves. You tear them to pieces with your shouting."

"But mama, the regiment has come to Hertfordshire!" Lydia gleefully revealed.

'Great. Another unwanted character.' My thoughts were now concerned with how to avoid Wickham.

"We have come from our aunt Phillips who says they are to remain here all winter." Kitty added.

Mrs. Bennet was now standing with her two youngest; they made a small circle in the parlour with joined hands as their bodies shook with hardly contained excitement.

"Oh, what a fine things for you girls! I remember when I fancied a soldier, Sergeant Henshawe. What a handsome man he was."

"I'm sure our soldiers will be ten times more handsome than your sergeant." Lydia stated with a smile splitting her face.

"I daresay." Was all Mrs. Bennet could say.

With the regiment in Meryton, Lydia and Kitty were hardly ever to be found at home. They left early in the morning, practically tying their bonnets on as they stuffed their last bites of breakfast into their mouths and only returned when the hour was late and they had enough sense to know that they would be missed. The familiar name of Denny and Sanderson were soon being circulated around the house as regularly as any of the family members' names and I could see that Mr. Bennet was finding shelter in his study more often as his wife encouraged the flirtatious behaviour.

I watched on feeling rather helpless. On returning from Netherfield, I had decided to intervene between Wickham and Lydia. So much had already changed - some things not even by my doing - that I started feeling that the story didn't have to be followed to the line.

I knocked on Mr. Bennet's study door and waited for admittance.

"Come."

The room was well lit with all the drapes pulled open, shedding light on the various titles that lined the bookshelves as well as gleaming across the scattered parchments adorning the mahogany desk.

"Lizzy." Mr. Bennet greeted, not taking his eyes from a book he had held in his hands; very much in the same manner when I had entered his study on the night of the ball. There was no sherry near him, though.

"I am glad to see you restored to us," here he raised his gaze to mine where I was hit with such affection that I felt momentarily overwhelmed. "You scared me, Lizzy." He expressed, putting his book down and standing to rest his hands on my shoulders.

"I'm sorry, father." I looked at the buttons of his waistcoat, feeling shy. "I was worried about Jane - "

"As was I, but you did not see me take up my walking stick and my top hat to venture into the wrath of mother nature."

"No, but father...I am..."

"Younger." He supplied and I nodded mutely.

"Yes you are younger, therefore much easier to be swayed by flighty notions." I looked up to see him quirking an eyebrow at me.

"Flighty notions?"

"Hmm." He tapped my nose and then stepped back to reclaim his seat. I shook my head, refocusing my attention on the reason for my wanting to speak with him.

"Father."

"Yes, Lizzy."

"I think it would be beneficial to have a closer eye on Lydia and Kitty. Especially with the regiment here. They are becoming even harder to control and I fear that no good will come from it."

"Is there a particular incident you have in mind." He teased.

"Father, I'm being serious." I frowned at him. "But if you would like a particular scenario, will this suit? - Lydia running away with an officer and bringing scandal to her name as well as her family's not to mention the money needed to fund such an elopement."

"She is hardly of means to intrigue any scoundrel that comes her way. And as to her bringing scandal - do you worry for your sister, Jane's, sake. I am sure Mr. Bingley is far too enraptured by her charms to notice anything else."

"Father -"

"Lizzy," he held up a hand to quite me, "I appreciate your concern but there is nothing to be done. It has long escaped my powers to check the silliness of your younger sisters and if I did so now there would be no peace."

I huffed and flashed my eyes at him. "You could try." I said walking out of the room, leaving the door opened. I hurried out the front door and down the lane until I had calmed down from my flare of annoyance.

"Ugh!" I griped to myself, striking my fists out from my sides. "Why does he have to be so bloody calm about everything?" I asked of the open air. The sun was surprisingly strong for its being November. I had to shade my eyes with my hand as I didn't bother grabbing a bonnet when I left the house. My spencer was enough to keep me warm enough if I didn't stay out too long, but then I thought better of it as I was just recovering from my cold.

Turning back around, I slowly made my way to the house. If Mr. Bennet wasn't going to get off his lazy arse then I would make it my personal mission to deal with Lydia. I would have to do so slyly, however. She wasn't dim no matter how silly she was. She would know if I was meddling.

The foyer was the same as it had been a few minutes ago when I had stormed out, the only difference was that Mr. Bennet's study door was closed. Cautiously, I tip-toed over to it and pressed my ear to the wood.

I could hear nothing, not a scratching quill nor turning pages so I left it and went in search of the women of the house. It was becoming time for breakfast, thus my search ended in the dining area. They were all seated including Mr. Bennet who gave me no exceptional look as I took my seat beside him where he sat at the head of the table.

We all began eating with only the chinking of cutlery to fill the silence until Mr. Bennet began the conversation.

"I hope, my dear, you have ordered a good dinner today, because I have reason to expect an addition to our family party."

"Mr. Bingley!" The foot of the table exclaimed immediately. Her eyes were aglow. "Why, Jane, you sly thing. You never dropped a word!"

Jane had an appropriately confused look on her face as she sought my attention for an explanation of what Mrs. Bennet could possibly mean.

"Oh, and not a bit of fish to be got! Oh, Lord! Lydia, my love, ring the bell. I must speak to Hill directly!"

Lydia wiped her mouth with her napkin and rose from the table, however, she was stopped by her father's statement of, "It is not Mr. Bingley. It is a person I never saw in the whole course of my life."

Lydia gasped from her point behind her mother. "Colonel Forster!"

"Captain Carter." Kitty suggested.

"No, I know, Denny!" Lydia, Kitty and Mrs. Bennet found that rather delightful and erupted into a fit of giggles that could only be sobered by the piercing stare of Mr. Bennet. Lydia abruptly stopped and then returned to her chair.

"About a month ago," Mr. Bennet pressed on. "I received this letter." He brandished it in front of the table for all to see. "And about a fortnight ago, I answered it, for I thought it was a case of some delicacy, and requiring early attention. It is from my cousin, Mr. Collins."

I groaned.

"Who, when I am dead, may turn you all out of this house as soon as he pleases." He said gravely.

"Oh, my dear, pray don't mention that odious man!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "I think it the hardest thing in the world that your estate should be entailed away from your own, poor, children."

"Indeed, my dear, nothing can clear Mr. Collins of the iniquitous crime of inheriting Longbourn, but if you'll listen to his letter, you may be a little softened by how he expresses himself." And putting on his glasses he began to read. "'My dear sir, the disagreement subsisting between yourself and my late honoured father always gave me much uneasiness, and since I have had the misfortune to lose him...'"

Lydia interrupted with a very unladylike grunt and snort of laughter, only to be looked at with a most unimpressed expression by her father.

"'...to lose him, I have frequently wished to heal the breach.' There Mrs. Bennet. 'My mind, however, is now made up on the subject..."

I could almost hear the transferring of voices of the 1995 minis-series when we hear Mr. Collins' voice for the first time as he's introduced to the audience. I wondered if he was going to be as slimy and greasy as he appeared on screen. I didn't get my hopes up on that department. He would be arriving at four, so when the clock struck the appointed hour, the Bennets gathered on the threshold of Longbourn to greet our guest.

"And here he comes." Mr. Bennet said, watching the approaching carriage.

"He must be an oddity, don't you think." I supplied, feeling altogether that today was not looking that bright. Lydia and Kitty had already gone and come from Meryton in the time from the letter reading in the morning to the present time, with nothing but soldiers on their minds.

"Well, if he's disposed to make our girls any amends, I shan't be the person to discourage him." Mrs. Bennet reasoned.

"He is not a sensible man, sir." I stated rather than asked. Father glanced at me with a curious countenance.

"I believe you may be right, my dear. Indeed, I have great hopes of finding him quite the reverse." His voice became softer as the carriage came closer and stopped right before us. A head popped out from beneath the covered awning of the hansom cab.

Mr. Collins was just as slimy and greasy as the character on screen and I felt my facial muscles straining not to frown. 'And Mr. Darcy thinks I smile all the time.'

"Mr. Collins, you are very welcome." Awkwardly, the clergyman climbed out of the carriage, landing on the gravel with a heavy thud. Beside me, out the corner of my eye, I noticed Mary fixing her hair.

"My dear Mr. and Mrs. Bennet!" Mr. Collins smiled as he bent his body in half in what apparently was meant to be a bow. Upon straightening again his eyes caught sight of something near me and stared for a time longer than what was sociably acceptable. He was staring at Mary!

I blinked and crooked my head from one to the other until Mr. Collins pardoned himself for his momentary lapse of senses and made introductions with all of the family before following them into the house. The two oddballs cast furtive glances at each other as they entered with the others. I, alone, remained outside with a furrowed brow and stared at the now vacant doorway.

"Huh."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello. Wherever will that lead to, I wonder. And who is this other Devon? Thank you to all who are reading this and sticking with it. It's such fun to share these thoughts and this story with others who enjoy it.


	7. Muscle Memory

It was not a normal occurrence for such a level-headed person such as Fitzwilliam Darcy to find himself in constant battle of obtaining control over his thoughts. A ruse or two he might have used had he thought tricking himself into returning his senses to their once calm and easy state a reasonable ambition. The imaginative eyes that had entered his consciousness the night of the assembly were persistent in their remaining at the fore of his thinking while rendering him partially blind to the goings on of life around him.

Mr. Darcy was not of the nature to shower affection nor was he experienced in being a persuasive lover; but of late he found himself entertaining the notion of riding over to Longbourn. Not to actually gain admittance, however; that was a step too far even for his infatuated mind. No, his idea lead more towards the simple act of circling around the grounds in the chance of the young lady stepping out and their meeting quite by coincidence.

At the end of such imaginings Mr. Darcy would scoff at his own idiocy, rebuking himself into a chaste mood for the remainder of the day. He believed himself to be discreet in his musings and while Mr. Bingley was in similar straights, Caroline was suffering from no such heartache's that were attached to person's residing in a different house. Her already observant eyes now stuck to Mr. Darcy as a devout worshiper would a holy shrine; following his pacing step measure the length of the room, keeping watch while he stared out the window, and even committing each of his changing expressions to memory as he reclined beside her brother.

It was not very good company at Netherfield presently as nearly all it's inhabitants were consumed with thoughts of people absent either physically or mentally. And with that dilemma conversation and light-hearted talks were becoming a rarity.

However, this was not the case three miles away. Longbourn, the subject of Mr. Darcy's fancies, was a place of never ending chatter, ostentation and overall feeling of misplaced pomp and grandeur.

"And I have been so fortunate as to be distinguished by the patronage of the Right and Honourable Lady Catherine de Bourgh, widow of Sir Lewis de Bourgh, whose bounty and beneficence has preferred me to the valuable rectory of this parish, where it shall be my earnest endeavour to demean myself with grateful respect towards her Ladyship."

"Is it, indeed," mamma simpered at the foot of the table. We all had our dinner served before us and were moving through the courses more speedily than usual. I attributed it to the fact that, like Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins had a gift for supplying himself and his wary listeners with an endless bounty of conversation. Though conversation was not the right word as he was largely the only one speaking, therefore, the rest of us had nothing to do with our mouths except eat our meals as fast as possible and call dinner to a close.

In all honesty I was hoping for Mrs. Bennet to catch a gleam of his words, fasten on and interrupt him to the affect of going off on a spout of her own; but even she was having difficulty in keeping up with all that the clergyman had to say.

Throughout dinner his attentions had been most pronounced in the direction of neither Jane nor myself, but at Mary of all people. The sly looks they had given each other at the door hadn't slipped my notice but it was an impossible thing to happen. Not once in the book did Mr. Collins show the slightest interest in the middle daughter of the Bennet girls. Yet, there he was, sitting directly across from Jane and only speaking to her every other sentence while Mary continued to receive the most animated of his tellings. I wasn't even looked at at all, and I thanked my lucky stars for that.

While us Bennets were nearly done with our meal, Mr. Collins still had a ways to go and I feared that we would all have to suffer the wait of his finishing it.

"You seem very...uh...fortunate in your patroness, sir." Mr. Bennet commented. His difficulty in finding the proper word quite escaped our guest's notice, who was more than happy to re-introduce the great lady's name into the conversation.

"Indeed, I am." He set his glass of sherry down, swishing the liquid passed his cheeks before swallowing. "I have been treated with such affability, such condescension, as I would never have dared to hope for. I have been invited twice to dine at Rosings Park." He paused dramatically, no doubt awaiting praise that would reach to the high heavens. Instead he was met with uninterested silence, a badly done flirtatious smile from Mary, and a rather tardy response from his host.

"That so? Amazing."

Despite my annoyance at Mr. Bennet, I had to hide an amused grin by turning my head.

"Does she live near you, sir?" Mrs. Bennet inquired with the most sedate tone I've ever heard her utter.

"The garden, in which stands my humble abode, is separated only by a lane..." he demonstrated with his hands, holding them apart only a foot from each other; "from Rosings Park."

"Only a lane, eh? Fancy that, Lizzy," father quirked his brows at me.

"I think you said she was a widow, sir? Has she any family?" The foot of the table questioned with the same soft tones that was foreign to her.

"She has one daughter, ma'am. The heiress of Rosings, and of very extensive property," Mr. Collins preached, his voice growing ever louder as he leaned across me to speak with Mrs. Bennet. I could only watch him as if he were some strange creature exhibiting odd behaviour inside a glass cage.

"And has she been presented at court?" Mrs. Bennet questioned. Here, Mr. Collins withdrew somewhat, channeling the character of a bearer of bad news.

"Ah. She is unfortunately of a sickly constitution which unhappily prevents her being in town. And by that means, as I told Lady Catherine myself one day, she has deprived the British court of its brightest ornament." His voice fluctuated from being low to quite high and returning to an almost conspiratory volume as he addressed Mr. Bennet to his left at the head of the table.

"You may imagine, sir, how happy I am on every occasion to offer those little delicate compliments, which are always acceptable to ladies," he finished almost smugly. Mary was clearly enchanted but had to curb her amorous feelings to glare at Lydia who had snorted quite openly at her cousin's words.

"That is fortunate for you, Mr. Collins, that you possess such an extraordinary talent for flattering with delicacy," Mr. Bennet remarked as he patted his lips with his napkin and gave me a mischievous look. I tried to ignore him by casting my eyes in the opposite direction, but it was of no use. His teasing tone and gleaming eyes mixed with what I knew he was about to say managed to make me forgive him for his careless parenting.

'Their all fictional anyway.'

"May I ask whether these pleasing attentions proceed from the impulse of the moment, or are they the result of previous study?"

I giggled softly into my own napkin and caught Jane's eyes. She wore the smallest of smiles herself and had to quickly raise a glass to her lips to remain polite. As had been the case throughout dinner, Mr. Collins was none the wiser to our laughing at him and was seriously contemplating the question presented before him. His face was screwed up in consideration, apparently wanting to choose the best possible words for his answer.

"They arise chiefly from what is passing at the time, sir. I do sometimes amuse myself by writing down and arranging such little compliments as may be adapted to ordinary occasions," he chuckled. "But I try to give them as unstudied an air as possible." He quickly returned, concern writ across his face that he may be exposed at being so transparent.

Mr. Bennet simply smiled and said, "Excellent."

The rest of the evening followed much in the same vain as it did in the novel; Mr. Collins read to us, Lydia interrupted him and he set aside his book which he thankfully did not pick up for the rest of the night. Instead he moved quietly over to Mrs. Bennet's side and began a whispered conversation. I could guess at the subject but not the person it would centre around. He had smiled a bit simperingly at Jane, but their was no mistaking the attraction between him and Mary. I hated to say it, but it was a little creepy.

Everything was calm now; dinner was digesting, the light outside was fading, and their was a warm fire crackling away in the hearth. I was occupying one of the seats closets to the fire, busy thawing my frozen fingers. Central heating was sadly non-existent and I was having a time of acclimatizing myself to the fast growing colder weather. The others made do in shawls and wraps, whereas I had three or four bundled around my shoulders even within the house. Outside was another matter completely; in fact I found it less enjoyable to venture out without layering as much as possible by which time my sisters lost all patience in waiting for me and left. Today had been an exception as the sun had been extraordinarily warm, but with only the moon now, the chill had returned and I was ready to make my skin flame-resistant so that I may sit within the fire.

I rubbed my hands together and looked up at Lydia and Kitty who were rising and bidding us all a good night. Making up my mind, I stood and followed them.

"Lydia, Kitty, can I have a word?"

They shrugged their shoulders and acquiesced.

"Not here." I took their hands and led them to their room. Shutting the door behind them I prepared myself for awkward questions that I still did not know how I would answer.

"What is it, Lizzy?" Lydia questioned with a furrowed brow.

"You're being awfully mysterious," Kitty remarked.

"Am I?" I absently answered. "I don't mean to be." I walked from the door to one of their beds, wringing my fingers. I felt their eyes on me and knew that I must be killing them with suspense of what I had to say.

'Just get it out then.'

"I know this will sound completely mad and strange," I said, facing them, "but I need to ask a favour from the pair of you."

They blinked and nodded, ready to hear what it was.

"Er...well, the thing is..."

"Please Lizzy, we'd like to go to bed," Kitty said after a second of my hesitating.

"We have to go to Meryton tomorrow and it wouldn't do if we were too tired to rise."

I inwardly cringed. "Well, if you are to do my favour it would mean that you wouldn't go to Meryton tomorrow."

"What are you up to?" Lydia immediately suspicioned.

"Nothing," I extended my hands, palms up, to show my innocence. Lydia was not assuaged.

"Look, it's actually really simple. I seem to have forgotten how to dance."

They stared at me. Then at each other. Then back at me before Lydia scoffed. "Even you could do better than that, Lizzy."

"No, I'm serious. I fainted twice when Mr. Darcy found me and I woke up with a pain at the back of my head. Doctor Martin thought it only a headache but it's lingering and I find I have no memory of any of the dances," I invented. They were at least listening to me which I thought was encouraging. I was trying to present as serious a face as possible, though the absurdity of what I was saying was threatening to surface.

"Lizzy, you can't be serious," Lydia half admonished.

"I am being earnest. I do not wish to trouble mama with this as I know it will pass soon enough and I wish to not worry her. Once my cold is fully gone my head will be fine, I'm sure, but I worry that my memory of dancing will not return."

"And hasn't Mr. Darcy prematurely asked for your hand at whatever may be the next dance?" Kitty inquired. I nodded.

Lydia sighed and eyed me. "I suppose Denny can always come here."

"And Sanderson! We'll have dance partners for Lizzy," Kitty enthused.

"Wait," I obstructed her gleeful thought. "I'm not sure we should have people witnessing my younger sisters teaching me to dance."

"No, and I do not want any officers thinking any of my sisters are a dunce - "

"Thanks."

" - it would put them off. No," she tapped her chin, "perhaps Denny shouldn't come after all." She sighed. "Well, I suppose they'll be here all winter."

I smiled. "Does that mean you'll teach me?"

"Yes," she returned the expression, "mind, you'll have to do everything I say."

"Yes, ma'am," I knuckled my brow in a stiff salute. They gave me curious looks and I dropped my hand back down to my side.

"Er...thank you. I'll listen to all your instructions." I made my way to their door and bid them goodnight with a little more hope of not embarrassing myself in front of Mr. Darcy.

"Now, Lizzy, you're going to link your hands with Jane's and spin in a circle as Kitty and I do the same," Lydia demonstrated; her right hand behind her back, holding Kitty's left hand as Kitty mimicked the pose on the opposite side. Jane and I followed, the former falling into the figure easily, while the latter - that would be my clumsy self - had to walk with her eyes staring at her feet. I felt a complete idiot that I couldn't even spin in a circle without getting confused of what was meant to come next.

I was presently learning the strasbourgeoise cotillion. A lively enough dance that reminded me of American square dancing. There were four partners that spun and wound around each other throughout the figures and seemed fun enough, if only I knew the steps.

I was only at the very beginning; we had just bowed to start the dance. Originally I had only wanted Lydia and Kitty in on the secret, but they had persuaded me that Jane should be included as it would be easier if there was an even number. The eldest Bennet girl had been rather skeptical, though once she heard of my head complaint she expressed her worry and was ready to go and tell mama of it. It took all my persuasive powers to get her to drop it for the time being and to only concern herself in helping me learn how to dance.

"Alright, Lizzy, now let go of Jane and we'll do the same," Lydia instructed. She and Kitty separated as Jane released my hands. I curved my step, aiming for Lydia, but I was so concerned in not messing up that it was unpreventable as I tripped into my teacher.

"Sorry," I said, straightening and fixing the ruffled sleeve of Lydia's frock. She batted my hand away and fixed it herself.

"It must have been a hard fall," she loudly muttered with a huff.

"It was a faint, actually," I mildly corrected. She hmphed as she unceremoniously dropped herself onto the sofa. We were in the drawing room where the furniture had been pushed towards the walls to give us girls an open space in the middle of the floor. Mrs. Bennet had yet to discover us while Mary and Mr. Collins were busy studying Fordyce's sermons.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, standing before the impatient girl. Lydia had her back slumped in an overly dramatic pose. "I know you wanted to go to Meryton today and I'm being difficult."

I saw her eyes peeking up at me through her bristling lashes which softened as her whole demeanour relaxed at my apology.

"Shall we try again?" She held up her hand and I took it. Jane and Kitty were about to step back into position when the door to the room opened, admitting Mary and Mr. Collins.

"What are you doing?" Our dearly, ill-timed sister asked.

I opened my mouth, preparing to reveal my secret to two more persons when Lydia answered for me.

"We're practicing. Lizzy's more excited for her dance with Mr. Darcy then she's letting on."

I didn't know whether to be grateful or miffed at her answer, so I settled for something in between the two.

"Did you say Mr. Darcy?" Our clergyman of a cousin inquired.

"Yes, of Pemberly," Jane answered. "Is he known to you?"

"Only his name. His aunt is the one I claim the acquaintance with. He is the nephew of none other than my most estimable patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I had no idea that he was currently in the country." He grinned with an almost caricaturist gleam. "What happy chances are these. And you say that you have been asked to dance with Mr. Darcy?" he asked most eagerly, his beady eyes lighting on me.

"Yes. There was a little confusion at our first meeting, however, we have since cleared that all away."

"How glad I am to hear it," he nearly expounded. "A very pleasing attention to yourself, Miss Elizabeth, I'm sure. Miss Mary, perhaps you might aid your dear sister by providing music to their dance," Mr. Collins suggested. Mary's eyes practically sparkled at the opportunity to exhibit her playing skills in front of the first man who has attracted her notice. Lydia rose her brows at her sister's willingness in giving us music; I knew she must be thinking that had any of us asked it of her she would have refused with one of her condescending answers.

"And now," Mr. Collin's said as the first notes started up on the piano; "I will stand as judge of your execution and guide you where I see your talents lacking. The nephew of Lady Catherine must not be disappointed."

I reeled. "Sir, I thank you, but I am sure we can manage without turning into a spectator sport."

"Nonsense, cousin. I am happy to offer my assistance, in fact I will stand as your partner; the better to judge the experience that will be Mr. Darcy's."

I looked to each of my sisters with open-mouthed horror.

"You need not be frightened," Mr. Collins said, noticing my unflattering attitude. I clamped my mouth shut and stared bug-eyed at him. "I will not report any mistakes you may make now."

The piano continued to play out a jaunty tune and I saw no way in which to explain to Mr. Collins my current dilemma. My sisters were one thing, whereas the clergyman was the henchman of Lady Catherine.

Shutting my eyes, I nodded. Upon opening them I saw Lydia and Kitty standing next to us while Jane took a seat on the sofa. An amused smile spread across her face as plain as day.

We waited for the song to begin from the top to start the movements. When they came I managed to remember what Lydia had told me for the first turn, but after that I knew nothing. Mr. Collins and I spun and then something happened that took me completely by surprise - I was dancing. Automatically my limbs reacted to the other dancers and the four of us twined and weaved with not an incident on my side. In truth, it was Mr. Collins that had tripped a few times.

The looks of wonder on my sisters' faces could not match the astonishment that I felt. I was suddenly reminded of how I had oddly known the set up of the dining table when I had had my first breakfast in the Bennet household.

'Muscle memory,' I thought.

Passing Lydia, I gave her a bashful smile and a curious shrug in explanation of my sudden flow of memory. She gave me a toothy grin and I was enjoying the feeling of dancing in the Regency era with no woman telling me what to do over a cackling microphone. I knew the steps as a sleepwalker knows where the stairs are and how to climb down them. I didn't even mind that my inauguration into dancing was shared with Mr. Collins. For all his blundering he served his purpose well.

"What's all this?" a joyful, masculine, voice rang out through the room, beckoning everyone's attention and causing the music to stop. There were three men filling up the doorway; two were dressed in their uniforms while the plain-clothed one didn't need the splendid scarlet to draw attention to himself. His features were compellingly handsome that I found myself content in studying him until I realized who he must be.

"Denny!" Lydia exclaimed. "What a joke! We did not hear the door. You have found us quite in cheerful spirits."

"Excuse me, I will inform the missus." Our stout little house-keeper had been quite passed over, despite her standing at the front of the party. Hill bobbed her head and retreated in search of Mrs. Bennet.

"I see now why you nor Kitty could be found nowhere in town," Denny smiled as he walked into the room. The others followed and I saw that the plain-clothed man had his eyes on me. I was praying that he wasn't Wickham - for more than one reason. I saw that I wasn't the only one who had observed the favourable form.

"But I am remiss," Denny gallantly apologized, extending his arm and clapping his hand on the plain-clothed man's shoulder. "Allow me to introduce my friend, and fellow officer, George Wickham. And this other fellow is Sanderson, infamous for his never revealing his first name."

"Ladies," Wickham and Sanderson bowed. The former flicked his eyes on all of us women before stopping on me. I set my jaw.

"And Lydia if you will be so good as to introduce your family."

"Kitty you already know; Mary is by the piano; our cousin, Mr. Collins; Jane is just there by the sofa; and Lizzy, the reason we did not appear in Meryton this morning."

"My apologies," I smiled weakly in Denny's direction.

"Not at all. A sister's duty must not be trifled with," he beamed.

"Indeed," I simply said.

"Well, let us not keep you. You seem to be in want of partners." Denny's offer sent my stomach turning as I watched Wickham approach with a well-played sweet smile on his face. Before he could reach me, however, I turned my attention back to Mr. Collins as Kitty stood up with Sanderson and Lydia with Denny. Seeing that I was not receptive, Wickham approached Jane and asked if she would care to dance.

Mary resumed her playing and we couples shook the drawing room with our stomping and clomping. Once again I was amazed at how my body knew what to do. I stopped my mind from thinking and let feeling take over. It moved me through the dance as fluidly as a fish would wade through a stream; even thoughts of Wickham were put on hold. I didn't know the name of the dance, but that hardly mattered. As long as I didn't look like a fool in front of Mr. Darcy, I was happy.

Mary played the last notes of the song and the couples bowed and curtsied.

"That will be all! Thank you!" Mr. Bennet's muffled shout reached our ears; a twinge of irritability was in his voice. We laughed and broke up into separate parties just as Mrs. Bennet entered the room.

I immediately tuned out her exulting exclamations and took a seat on a chair. She was swift in immersing herself in the youngsters' conversation and I thought I heard mention of a certain Sergeant Henshawe. I kept a close eye on Lydia and who she spoke to. It was mainly Denny, but there were many glances cast at Wickham, though un-returned, they still gave me cause to worry.

For myself, I was acutely aware of Wickham's abundant looks passed my way and was almost relieved when he rose from Mrs. Bennet's side and came over to sit beside me. The sooner I could tell him off and cut off his sob story the better.

"What a charming mother you have," he opened.

I gave him a look.

Chuckling, he settled back in his chair and stuck his chin out at me. "You don't trust me. From the moment I walked in you've been avoiding me. Why?"

I felt my face getting red. I had not thought he would be the one to so bluntly bring to light the less than cordial way in which I had met him. I decided to not let him perturb me.

"I know you Wickham, so before you start your tale of sorrows of how Mr. Darcy wronged you, let me tell you that no one in this family will fall for it. You just stay away because I'll be watching you. Every time you try to pull a stroke I'll be behind you with a big neon sign saying, 'don't trust this guy.'" I channeled Amanda Price and was slightly satisfied to see the confused expression marring Wickham's near perfect brow.

"What is neon?"

"Wait and see," I quipped, turning my head away. I expected him to stand and go away, but he remained and at last he spoke.

"How do you know of my relation with Mr. Darcy?"

I looked back at him and rudely smirked. "Wouldn't you like to know."

His eyes flashed suddenly with a fire that shouldn't have been revealed until the end of the book. Feeling the raw emotion running off of him, I stood and quickly stepped away. I took a spot next to Jane and tried to calm myself, but it was in vain. Throughout the officers visit, Wickham's eyes were on me and I had the sinking feeling that I had said the wrong thing.


	8. Fiction or Reality

Since my introductory encounter with Mr. Wickham I had thoroughly beat myself up about how I handled the situation; mentally, anyways. It wouldn't do if I was found by my sisters to be flinging myself about my room, or purposefully tumbling down the stairs. That was of a dramatic flare that I didn't quite live up to.

No, I satisfied myself by torturing my mind and keeping sleep far away during the nights, which resulted in my appearance taking a turn for the worse.

"Lizzy, you do look pale. Are you feeling well?" Jane met me outside my door just as the pair of us were about to descend the stairs to break our fast - as I often heard it being called. I swiped my fingers across my eyes, unsuccessfully removing the sleep from them.

"I am only a little tired." I told her.

"You have been 'only a little tired' for the past five days. Are you not sleeping?" She pressed. I turned my head away from her, lest she see my exasperated expression of being interrogated so early in the morning.

"It must be the weather." I lied.

"It has never been so influential with you before."

"Really, Jane." I snapped and felt immediately sorry for doing so. She paused at the foot of the stairs, looking at me without any reproach, but with the tenderest of sisterly affection. Now I really felt sorry.

"Forgive me. I didn't mean to be ratty..." I stopped for a moment as I put together the pieces of words that would satisfy her. At least momentarily. However, before I could pick up my train of thought, Jane reached out and took one of my hands in her own.

"Lizzy, do not seek to comfort me. I may not see the world quite as you do, but I am not a child that needs coddling by her younger sister. I will respect your privacy if whatever it is that is troubling you, you wish to keep to yourself. But I would tell you that should you ever wish to speak of it I will listen with no reservations - as I have always done. Does that placate you?" She smiled at the end as she saw my face adopt, no doubt, a curious one of astonishment.

I closed my slightly open mouth and gulped back a chuckle. "You really are brilliant." I muttered more to myself, though she heard nevertheless.

Mrs. Bennet again had to content herself to merely listening to the never ending spout of (hardly wise) words emitting from Mr. Collins.

"...to be sure, I would recommend nothing less had it not been for Lady Catharine's express desire..."

I tuned him out once mention of the great lady made her appearance in his speeches. In fact, I tuned him out on most occasions and had a sneaking suspicion that even the angelic Jane did likewise. As our cousin left hardly any opening for a change of subject, and as my thoughts were ones I had rather not share with the class, I sat relatively happily in the midst of my pondering of what was to be done with the Wickham problem. I had entertained the notion of telling Darcy, but I was unsure of what level of attraction he was at.

It was a very peculiar feeling - knowing that I needn't worry about the hero falling in love with me. It was written and had nearly 200 years of being absorbed by the public to not be otherwise. Though, a sudden thought entered my musing which arrested my fork for only a split second before I gave up the idea as nonsense. What if Mr. Darcy doesn't fall in love with Elizabeth? Mr. Collins was meant to be chasing me by now, but as my eyes are not yet failing me they must be telling me right when I see he and Mary snuggled in a corner satisfying their appetites with Fordyce's sermons, of all things. Perhaps the same would extend to Mr. Darcy.

'No,' I told myself, 'Mr. Darcy is a completely different matter altogether.' And that was that.

I sighed, pushing my food around the plate until it had done a complete merry-go-round.

It wasn't a question of 'if' but 'when' that was troubling me in regards to Mr. Darcy. What if by the time Wickham and Lydia run off, Darcy hasn't expressed his love. He would then have no reason for entangling himself in this families affairs and Lydia would certainly be lost and ruined, bringing her own scandalous deeds to the door of her sisters. I couldn't imagine Mr. Collins too thrilled with Mary then.

Had these thoughts come to me earlier, when I first arrived in this strange alternate universe, I would have given them half a thought and continued with the ride. They wouldn't have received my full attention as I would have past them off as fictional characters that could endure no harm. But how could that be when I've been living with them for a month and have seen their very real hearts beating out very real emotions. How can I pass them up as being fake and not worth of care?

I had made that mistake with Wickham; he was such the perfect villain that I treated him as one would in a play, where the outcome of the story was secured and the heroine may say anything she wishes without any real danger of a repercussion. This was no story, but real life that happened to be, wondrously, documented by Jane Austen and I would see right by the people these events affected.

I felt my brow stiffen in a firm line above my eyes as my resolve grew with each passing thought. Wickham was a libertine, a rake, a blackguard, any one of those adjectives that describes a man with no moral compass. He was not a phantom that I had to constantly jerk my head around my shoulder to make certain that he wouldn't be found creeping up behind me. He was a man and I had my share of those from my old life.

"Mama," my attention was brought back to the table as a distinctly feminine voice miraculously broke through Mr. Collins's preaching. It was Lydia who spoke and she was telling Mrs. Bennet of her and Kitty's plans for going to Meryton after breakfast. Most mornings that would be common knowledge, but since their favorites of the officers had been to town for a few days they had skulked around the house until the afternoon when they would then walk the path that led to Meryton. It was a much different thing, as I had been soundly rebuked on, not two nights prior.

"Yes, my dear." The foot of the table said without thinking. She was used to doing so and when it came to her two youngest she was especially used to doing so.

I had an inkling,a premonition, a feeling, call it what you will, I had my doubts of this little outing.

"Has Denny returned?" I casually asked, bringing my played with food to my mouth. It was cold and lacked flavour for being so, but I chewed nonetheless.

"Yes, and Wickham. They had been called to London on some trivial thing - I can't remember - though I remember how vexed they had been to have to go. I remember especially Mr. Wickham expressing his wish to have seen you once more before they left." She gave me a sly look and from the corner of my eye I saw Mr. Bennet turn his gaze on me.

"What can he mean." I brushed off. "We've only met the once and I was hardly civil to him."

"Were not you?" Lydia inquired, leaning forward in her excitement of gossip. "For, when I asked him of what the pair of you had been speaking of so cozily in your corner he told me that he would not, on his honour, reveal what one lady told him in confidence to another."

"That's because what I had to say to him wasn't too nice." I retorted, taking a sip of tea as I felt my cheeks turning red with agitation, though I knew Lydia would misconstrue it for a blush. I heard a soft rumbling chuckle come from the head of the table and was assured that this conversation was being listened to, most attentively, by all seated at the table. I was certain of my very own private lecture on how young ladies should respect young men by Mr. Collins if his examining eyes were anything to go by, and Mrs. Bennet left her hand suspended in the air, too preoccupied with ascertaining whether or not her daughter slighted a possible suitor. Mary had only half an ear, the other lay in anticipation for her beloved's next litany of words and Kitty was right there with Lydia. Only Jane listened without looking as if she was. Bless her.

"Come Lizzy, you mustn't be coy with us," Lydia implored, "we're your family."

"I'm not being coy. I've told you, none of what passed between myself and Mr. Wickham was complimentary. Besides, when had you the opportunity to speak with him? I thought he had left for London the next morning."

"They had meant to - " Kitty started.

" - but they decided to take the noon coach instead so that we might wish them farewell." Lydia interrupted.

"How very sweet." I sarcastically cooed.

"You could've joined us."

"To spit more fire?"

Lydia pursed her lips and quirked her brows at me. "Despite your harsh words I do not altogether believe your apparent disdain for Mr. Wickham; he spoke only warmly of you and I fail to see why he would tell tales on something like that."

"Can't you?" I muttered under my breath. I meant for none to hear me, though Mr. Bennet's expression indicated that he might have.

"Why don't you come with us, Lizzy," the youngest Bennet girl invited with the authority of a married woman; "then you may see for yourself in what regards you are held with a certain officer."

As this was what I wanted - to come and keep an eye on things - I did not argue. "I will come, but only to prove to you that you are mistaken in your fancy of star-crossed lovers."

Lydia only smiled at me as if I were some naive child that needed taking under wing.

After breakfast, as those of us prepared for our outing, I heard a knock outside my bedroom door. "Come in."

"Are you decent?" Mr. Bennet asked.

"Father? Yes, I am." I hurried to the door and opened it to see Mr. Bennet standing in the hall. "Is anything the matter?"

"Not at the moment, no," he gave a slight bounce of his heel, his hands were clasped behind his back. "- Uh - I don't mean to sound impertinent, Lizzy, but might I come in. Standing at ones threshold lets in awful drafts."

"Of course." I laughed. I shut the door behind him then pulled back the chair to my writing desk for the comfort of his bottom.

"What's the occasion?"

He raised his brows at me. "The occasion, as you put it, is hardly as festive as you make it out to be." He said, easing himself into the proffered chair. "I come with questions and would have you answer them."

"What sort of questions?" I asked leaning against one of the posts of my canopy bed.

"This morning at breakfast, you made a remark under your breath that reminded me of the same attitude you had when you had come to me, asking for me to lay down the law as it were, so far as it concerned Lydia. Do you remember?" He asked unnecessarily.

"How could I forget?"

"I suppose when you came to me you had this sort of fellow in mind as the one who would do the job."

I nodded.

"I see." He hesitated a moment. I could tell there was something more, but he was being hindered by the unfamiliarity of prying into his daughter's lives. "May I ask what it was that passed between you and this Mr. Wickham."

I thought for a second and decided upon a course of action I hoped would work. "Father, there is more to this story then just Mr. Wickham and myself - "

"You've met him before?" He asked.

"No, but I had heard of him, though I cannot tell you from whom. Their secret is wrapped up in this and I respect them too much; besides it is not my secret to tell. What I can say is that George Wickham is a player...uh, a libertine," I amended; "whose thoughts are for nothing, save how to cheat men out of their money and ruin women in the process. I do not trust him father, nor do I trust Lydia with him."

I saw he was preparing to open his mouth and I knew what he was going to say, 'but she has no money.'

"It doesn't matter if a woman be dripping in diamonds or cinders for his taste. He has no morals, no principals."

"You anticipate me, Lizzy."

"I am afraid your arguments are predictable." I felt the corner of my mouth turn up into a small smile at his exaggerated expression of defeat.

"You have intrigued me, Lizzy. I do not say I will convict this Mr. Wickham on sight - I still reserve my rights of making my own judgments - but I will take your opinion into account."

"Thank you, father."

He looked at me oddly with an expression I had not seen before. "May I ask one thing more?"

I nodded again.

"What is with this calling me 'father'?"

Of all the things I expected him to bring up, that wasn't one of them. "Oh. Do I not call you father?" I asked rather bluntly. Though he didn't understand my meaning of wondering whether his Elizabeth called him father.

"You do, but more often it is papa; I merely wondered at the change." He looked at me expectantly.

"Er...I don't know really. I can return to calling you papa if you like."

"It's of no matter, just a curiosity." He then rose from the chair and cupped my cheek before passing through my door. His little show of affection brought a pang that I remember having felt before in his company. The comfort of a father was reassuring, even one as indifferent as Mr. Bennet. It pulled me deeper into this new reality, bringing to light how much I had missed the presence of a father in my old life.

Jane would be accompanying us and I was grateful. The support of someone I knew who would believe me for my word was reassuring. Lydia kept chattering about how gallant Wickham looked in his regimentals and how she was sure I would as well. She was only deterred from her ramblings when we entered the quaint town of our destination. It was not my first visit, yet I found it difficult not to get caught up in all the authenticity of regency era life that surrounded me. It was not all that glamorous, in fact it was not glamorous at all, but it was real and that attracted me more than anything else.

The main road, which was the majority of the town, was flanked by homes, shops, and inns all in an array of being quintessentially British. Small groups of women, like ourselves, moved about from one store window to the next with baskets hanging from their arms, while the men ambled about on their own; their steps much more determined than their women-folk, though they were as unoccupied as their counterparts. There was a horse and cart trundling up the road, moving in the opposite direction of a couple of riders who tipped their hats back in respect to the women passengers seated in the open cart.

I smiled at the scene, relishing the living ghosts.

"There! I'm sure that's new since Friday." Kitty pointed and brought us all to stand in front of a window display of bonnets. "Isn't it nice? Don't you think I'd look well in it?"

"Not as well as me." Lydia responded, swiveling her head around to catch sight of the officers. There was a number of them passing presently, though Denny nor Wickham was among them. "Come on!" She proceeded to pull on Kitty's arm to detach her sister's attention from the display, but the older girl was having none of it.

"No, I shan't!" She tugged her arm back to herself and then turned towards Jane and me. "Jane, look at this. I am determined to have this bonnet."

Jane did as was asked of her, telling Kitty it was very nice, but all compliments were forgotten when Lydia said, "Look, there's Denny!"

"Where?" Kitty immediately asked, turning from the window display without a second glance. Jane and I caught the other's eye and grinned.

"There. Look!"

"And it is Mr. Wickham with him."

"Lizzy, do look!" Lydia practically ordered.

"I can see well enough, thank you." I said shortly.

Lydia ignored my tone and went back to looking at the men across the road.

"Denny!" She shouted.

"Lydia!" Jane reprimanded with a sterner voice I'd yet to hear her use. The youngest Bennet girl merely giggled and waved for the officers to cross and join our party. Wickham's eyes lit on me. I couldn't detect any immediate malice in his countenance, though I was sure it was just below the surface.

"What a fine joke." Lydia laughed upon their crossing of the road.

"A well met joke." Denny said. "We were just on our way to see you."

"And we you. How was town?"

"There was nothing of amusement to keep us. Was there Wickham?"

"No, nothing of the charms of Meryton."

Kitty and Lydia giggled, whereas I did my best to conceal the scoff that was threatening to rise from my throat. I wasn't completely successful and had to convert the hitch in my voice into a short cough.

"Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?" Wickham asked with the most sincere tone that one could imagine. I noticed Lydia and Kitty exchange a glance with each other and felt the urge to follow my instincts and tell the man off.

A sudden hand rested on my arm, distracting me from my rising ire. I looked down and saw the neat gloved fingers of Jane. Oh, how good she was for me.

"Thank you, I am very well, Mr. Wickham."

"I am glad to hear it." He smiled.

I grabbed hold of Jane's hand.

"I had thought that I might have seen you before I departed for town, but your sisters told me that you had decided to remain home."

"I did remain home as I saw no reason to see you off, Mr. Wickham. We have met only once before, we mean nothing to each other, and quite frankly - "

Jane squeezed my arm. I faltered, retracting my words and supplied gentler ones in their stead.

" - and quite frankly...it would hardly make sense."

"Make sense?" Wickham questioned broadly, looking at each of us and giving Denny a special smile that reminded me strikingly of the blokes that frequented the pubs near my flat who thought they were the apple of every woman's eye.

"Hmm." I nodded. He eyed me with a glint that I wasn't sure if any of the others recognized, but there it was for all to see if one looked past the superficial charms of his face.

"No. I suppose we'll have to acquaint ourselves more fully before I can enjoy your company."

Jane brought her other hand to my arm.

"I'm sure Lizzy expresses the same sentiment, but shall we walk. We're in the way of the cart just standing here."

So we moved off. Denny extended the use of his arms to both Lydia and Kitty, leading the way, while Wickham offered the same to Jane and myself. I was ready to refuse when I caught sight of Jane's warning eyes.

Grudgingly, I hooked my arm around Wickham's left one and tried my best to keep my head averted from his general direction. It worked for the first three seconds - before he began speaking to me in low tones. I assumed Jane was not meant to hear this portion of his lovely, gentlemanly, charms.

"Any sign of neon?"

"What?" I spun my head around and found his face uncomfortably close to mine. Clearing my throat, I looked straight on.

"You mentioned a neon sign when first we met. You have yet to explain what it is."

"I don't believe I made a promise to explain anything to you."

"Indeed. Not even the more pressing question of how you know of my affairs with Mr. Darcy."

"You're not going to ask how I know again, are you?"

"Not in so many words. There are other ways of discovering secrets."

I couldn't help but glance up at him in shock. "What are you saying?" I questioned dumbly. He merely gave me a fox-grin, an expression that quite detracted from his more winning features.

"And you wonder why I didn't trust you when first I saw you." I tried to take my arm from his but he held onto me firmly.

"I do wonder, yes." He spoke so quietly that even I had to strain my ears to hear him. Jane was probably wondering if there was any credence in what Lydia had to say about us after all. "When I first walked into the drawing room at Longbourn I was being my best self, ready to please the ladies, but when I saw you I knew that you saw through my façade and that intrigued me. What was it that gave it away?"

I didn't answer him, instead I turned my head from his, intending to ignore him.

He tugged me closer, however, knocking me off my balance so that I had to lean against his body to straighten myself. "What are you doing?" I angrily whispered.

He brought his mouth to my ear and lowly growled into it, "you say you know what I am. Would you expect anything different?"

"Yes I would!" I cried, wrenching my arm from his and taking several steps away from him.

"Miss Elizabeth, are you alright?"

I thought my ears deceived me, but there was no mistaking the deep rich voice of Mr. Darcy. I only just realized that I had been stumbling towards two horses that seated Mr. Bingley and the gentleman that had asked after my welfare. I looked up just in time to see the spark of recognition flit between Mr. Darcy and Wickham. They stiffly nodded but neither held the others gaze for above a second; Darcy turned to me almost immediately.

"Miss Elizabeth," he called softer, more intimately. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to go home - my real home. I missed my mum and Jules and sweet Jax. I even missed Dan who would knock Wickham to the ground if he'd seen the man's conduct and my reaction. I'm sure Darcy had the same desire, yet he just sat there, restricted by the rules of his time. So stiff and proper.

I weakly told him that I was alright.

To my surprise, Mr. Darcy dismounted and approached me. "Are you sure, Miss Elizabeth? You seem quite unsettled."

"I believe the lady has already given you her answer, Mr. Darcy."

"I believe I was addressing the lady and not you, sir." Mr. Darcy returned. Denny and the girls finally noticed that something was amiss, so they retraced their steps until they had joined us again.

"What's all this?"

I took the advantage of Wickham explaining the arrival of the two gentleman to whisper something to Mr. Darcy.

"I'm keeping an eye on my sister."

"Your - " he scanned his eyes over our party until they lighted on Lydia. "I see," he breathed.

Mr. Bingley dismounted from his own horse and strode over to Jane, claiming her hand from Wickham's as he asked over her health.

"I am well, thank you."

"I am glad to hear it."

Their conversation was low and quite innocent as a rising tension filled the air between the two men staring daggers at the other.

"We had meant to come and see you at Longbourn." Mr. Darcy suddenly said and loud enough for his friend to hear him. I turned my head to see if Mr. Bingley had indeed heard his friend - he had.

"To inquire after your health." Mr. Darcy elaborated. "Now that we see you, it would be unfortunate to waste this opportunity of walking with you; do not you think, Bingley?"

"Most certainly I do." He agreed heartily as he beamed at Jane.

"If you wouldn't mind?" Mr. Darcy asked directly of me.

I shook my head; more in wonder than anything else.

Though I had witnessed changes to the story, it still managed to astound me when they occurred. If the book had had its way, Mr. Darcy would be riding his horse down the road and as far away from Wickham as possible. But now, he was here, offering me his arm and walking in tow with his enemy.

Denny gave Darcy an odd look before continuing with his stroll, a gal on either side of his arm. I could tell he was curious as to the obvious friction, but he was also not dim enough to ruin a good thing and detach himself from the two youngest Bennet girls. However, one slipped from his grasp and hooked onto Wickham instead.

I lurched forward but Mr. Darcy held me back.

"I just witnessed you tear yourself from that man and now you lunge for him." He and I were just behind Wickham and Lydia, and I felt my brow furrowing dramatically at the sight of them. Jane and Mr. Bingley were following behind us.

"You know very well that I was not lunging at him. I'm trying to keep Lydia away from him." I whispered.

"By interposing between your sister and that man when she clearly sought his company? You would do more harm, presently."

"I suppose you're right." I sighed. We walked silently side by side for a time until a random thought occurred to me. "What happened to your horses?"

"A boy is looking after them."

"I saw no boy."

"Mr. Bingley motioned to him and offered him compensation for the task."

"Oh, I missed all of that." I said flatly.

"You were preoccupied with other matters." He said, glaring at Wickham's back.

"Yes, about that - "

"You do not need to explain anything." He interjected.

"I wasn't. I was going to thank you for stepping in. I - he knows that I know what he is."

Mr. Darcy looked down at me. I could feel the question bouncing off of him as much as I knew he wouldn't ask it; propriety ruled the day.

"You may wonder how I know, I can assure you I discovered quite respectfully; I was told of certain accounts of his, none of them in his favour."

"I know not where you have heard these accounts, but you do right to follow their judgment in being wary of Mr. Wickham."

"I know." I said simply, looking up at him.

A mixture of emotions sprouted up in my heart the very instant our eyes met. The others I no longer saw as characters; they were flesh and blood with fears and desires just as any other living human being. Although, when it came to Mr. Darcy he seemed the most real while at the same time appearing as the most false. How could he be both? I felt a tug-of-war within me, pulling me this way and then that way while my mind bounced between the two. Everything was becoming so muddled, my old life was beginning to turn into the fictional dream, slipping away with every waking hour I spent in my new reality.

What if I never returned? Would I be happy here? Could this man before me make me happy? He's all I've ever dreamed of, all of my standards are based on him; even Dan suffered because of him and Mr. Darcy doesn't even know it. Why would he know it? Sweet Dan, no doubt my perfect match in my old life and he had to suffer because of a fictional character.

Or maybe not so fictional. Here, before me, stood Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, as real and as solid as Dan was. If I was stuck here and the story played out, for the most part, how I know it, would I be happy with the hero? Or would I long for the memories of my past?

My head spun violently with more unanswerable questions as I let Mr. Darcy lead me through Meryton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all again for your support and your reviews; you may think it's a little thing, but it really makes my day. So keep it coming :)  
> I got a little distracted with another of my fics. A short Viking story featuring Ragnar with an OC. I've posted the first chapter here as well on Fanfiction (my handle is the same as it is here) as a kind of teaser to see what interest there is. My plan is to finish it completely before posting the rest of it.  
> 'Till next time.


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